Last night Maisie and I watched The Imitation Game, on a DVD which she'd got as a wishlist present in December. Bethan was on a train to Shrewsbury. It wasn't bad, but not as good as it could have been.
It felt like two films in one really - or at least, a potential good film, about Bletchley Park in wartime, hampered by the post-war elements relating to his arrest and sentencing for homosexual activity (and the pre-war school section emphasising a particular interpretation of a friendship), which felt like they carried all the points being made and purpose of the movie, but didn't mesh very well, was less dramatically interesting, and reduced the effectiveness of the telling of the wartime story, which was more dramatically interesting.
Here's an interesting review of the film from the New York Review of Books which I happened to come across this morning via a link from his Wikipedia article, which confirmed some of the dubiety I felt about the telling of the historical and the personal story.