Grace (Brenda Blethyn) has led a relatively sheltered life – the wife of a very rich man, she has been able to focus on her more simple interests, such as working with the Woman’s Institute in her local seaside English village, or pursuing her love of gardening, which has made her quite a formidable authority on the practice. However, when her husband mysteriously dies (some believe it to be an accident, others are certain it was a suicide), she is plunged into an existential depression, which isn’t helped by the discovery that not only did she lose her beloved spouse, but also is on the verge of losing her entire life. It turns out that the dearly departed was not exactly who he said he was – rather than an affluent, respected man who earned his wealth through legitimate means, he was a volatile businessman who gained financially through quick schemes that were barely legal, and when it finally came time to absolve himself of his wrongdoings, he decided to take the easy way out, leaving his wife with nothing but mountains of debt and the realization that the fond memories she has of him are now obscured by despair. However, Grace isn’t one to recede into turmoil all that easily, so she does what she needs to do in order to find another means of income to paying off the debts and keeping all of her valuable property – but every plan she makes fails almost immediately, as you can’t quite earn money when you have nothing to offer. This is where her salvation (or rather, her saving grace) enters the picture – her gardener, Matthew (Craig Ferguson), who she has recently had to let go due to her financial situation, comes to her with a plan. He has been secretly growing marijuana, which only he and a few of his friends around the village have been enjoying – however, he knows that with Grace’s experience (as well as her dire financial situation), she may be able to help him expand on this practice, and perhaps even get to a point of selling the product. Faced with the choice of losing her home or tarnishing her reputation, Grace knows exactly which path she needs to take.

Saving Grace is such a delightful film, it’s bizarre to think that there hasn’t been much of an audience for it over the years. The kind of warm, endearing British comedy that may technically lack nuance and be hopelessly predictable, it is still a resonant, enjoyable piece of filmmaking that reminds us of the value of a story well-told. Nigel Cole has had quite a bit of experience when it comes to directing these kinds of endearing comedies, where ordinary people find themselves in extraordinary situations, and have to do whatever they can to work their way out of it, as evident in his follow-up films to this one, such as Calendar Girls and Made in Dagenham, similarly-themed tales of working-class women trying to find a way out of a major crisis, normally through putting aside their interpersonal differences and own pride, and embracing the spirit of community. These stories normally tend to take the form of a do-it-yourself solution, where we see an emphasis on the community coming together to resolve a problem, without becoming too ensconced in the details. There is a lot to love about Saving Grace, whether it be its happy-go-lucky storyline of friendship, the wonderful performances or the general feeling that everything is going to work itself out, with only a bit of luck and slightly more effort than we’d normally attribute to such situations. Not a film free of flaws, nor one that claims to be the definitive word on any of these issues, but instead a lovable, much-needed dosage of escapism for an easygoing evening of warmth and laughter, you’d be hard-pressed to find something quite as lovable as this when it comes to bringing out the inherent joy of human nature, and the value of communal values in a world where everything seems to be growing increasingly hostile.

Perhaps its a sign of the times, but when something as oddly captivating as Saving Grace sets down a foundation for ideal human behaviour, then perhaps it is time to start looking beneath the irreverent story, and understanding how, just below the effervescent surface, there is something almost prophetic about how Cole and screenwriters Ferguson and Mark Crowdy present the human side of this story. The premise of an old, prim-and-proper English dowager deciding to enter into the drug trade (which was at the time still far from the more progressive stance many governments have started to take towards it) is one that seems ripe for hilarity, and this is certainly a very funny film – but what gives it the nuance is how, beneath the outrageous humour, there is a very real story of human despair, and that, in spite of the very bold and vaguely surreal plot, what we see the titular character facing (as well as many other people in her community) is a very real depiction of what many people tend to go through as a result of the growing corporate presence in the lives of people. Sympathy and capitalism don’t seem to be copacetic bedfellows, and while this is far from a film that preaches insurgence from the proletariat, it is one that instead shows the reality for many working-class people. Part of this case to come from Ferguson, who has been very open about his own journey through the lower end of the income spectrum in Scotland over the course of his childhood and early adult years – but even then, there is something so endearing about how, despite the possibility to becoming quite cynical, there is always a sense of hope underlying the sadness, which makes it even more captivating, since there is depth to the story, rather than just 90 minutes of meditating on the pratfalls of modern life. Perhaps this is reading too much into this film, but as we’ve seen before, the most profound statements on life are often found in the most unexpected of places, so a quaint, pastoral British comedy is as good a place as any to insert some radical, socially-charged commentary.

Ferguson is a marvellous writer (and as we saw for several glorious years on television, a magnificent comedian), but some of his most impressive skills can be found in his acting work – writing the role of Matthew for himself, he lends his unique talents to Saving Grace in the way that only someone with the self-awareness of Ferguson could, playing him as self-deprecating, but still a virtuous and good-hearted man. The film is a two-hander, and Ferguson has marvellous chemistry with the incredible Brenda Blethyn, who was still in a period where she was regularly playing these complex, older British characters that were indicative of different rungs on the social ladder. Far from her working-class nag in Secrets & Lies (still one of the finest performances of the 1990s), or her incredibly villainous turn in Little Voice, her performance in Saving Grace is yet another wonderful entry into her storied career, showing how she can adapt to any material and still put in some truly spirited work. Grace is not a difficult character to play – after all, it technically only requires an actress of a certain age who can play both uptight and stoic, but also play up the comedic side of the character when it was necessary. Blethyn takes on the assignment, but manages to develop Grace beyond just an adorable old lady, turning her into a complex protagonist with some real depth, which she magnifies perfectly. It’s an impeccable piece of acting from an actress who may not be as widely recognized as a powerful performer as she should be, but rather seen as a reliable character actress who puts in the work – and she does so with poise, grace and a healthy dose of self-aware humour that makes watching her on screen such an absolute delight.

The term “feel-good film” is one I try and avoid using, since it has come to have a connotation of being an excuse for derivative filmmaking (much in the same way “guilty pleasure” is shorthand for a memorable disaster). However, on the basic definition of the term, which is essentially a film that inspires comfort and joy in the viewer, Saving Grace is the perfect embodiment of this kind of storytelling. Simple but effortlessly blissful, the film manages to speak directly to the heart of many viewers, who may not be particularly enamoured with the specific story details, but will certainly be won over by the wonderfully upbeat tone and happy ending, which may appear vaguely absurd (especially since the reality of such a resolution being almost entirely unlikely), but still gives us the closure we need to thoroughly enjoy this film and see the world from a slightly different perspective. It’s not a major work, and it has earned the exact reputation it deserves, being a solid but unremarkable comedy – but it’s ability to touch on many profound themes, whether the positive (the power of friendship, the value of community, and the importance of determining one’s self-worth), or the negative (the commodification of human suffering, and the heartless nature of the world of business to those who may not have all the resources to get ahead in life), is all part-and-parcel of what makes Saving Grace such an absolute delight, a charming and effervescent comedy that puts joy in our hearts and a spring in our steps – and sometimes, that’s more than enough for such a film.