A little like The A-Team, I may have actually once had overly high expectations of this which had all but vanished by the time it finally became a reality. I think Ricky Gervais and/or Stephen Merchant hinted at doing a more serious work way back between The Office and Extras whenever asked “what next?” and, given how effective some of the more serious moments in those shows were, I couldn’t wait to see what happened with whatever they ended up doing.

I’ve remained a fan of Gervais over the years, but since Extras it’s been a lot like I am with Kevin Smith. I’m perfectly loyal, listening to and watching any podcast or DVD they put out, but it’s never been with such passion as I had with their early work (with Gervais, The Office, to which I was a relative latecomer; with Smith, of course, the New Jersey Trilogy). After his fairly unremarkable turns in Ghost Town and The Invention of Lying, not to mention the lacklustre initial reception of this when it first hit cinemas earlier in the year, needless to say, I really wasn’t super hyped to see this in the end.

The story’s as old-fashioned as its 1970s setting, the younger generation of a dead end town yearning to various degrees (whether they know it or not yet) to get the hell out and “make something” of their lives. The central character Freddie takes a job under the brutal Ralph Fiennes as an insurance salesman but quickly learns that this admittedly safe life might not necessarily be the right way to spend his time on the planet.

I say quickly – the initial pace of this movie is just as old-fashioned as the story, and it takes a pretty long time to get going. For me, aside from an hilarious early scene at the junction itself where Freddie’s chunky and slightly simple companion “Snork” is introduced to his perfect girl (though he doesn’t know it yet – a wonderful subplot in itself, incidentally), the movie really takes off at the Winner’s Ball sequence midway.

We meet Emily Watson as Ralph Fiennes’ wife but once before the Winner’s Ball (an annual dinner to greet the insurance company’s new blood and see off the old), and she’s the timid housewife we’ve seen many times before. There’s a simply beautiful lonely shot of her stirring a cup of tea in the doorway, a cup of tea that will become an important symbol later on. But it’s at the Winner’s Ball sequence that we see just how trapped she is. She’s repeatedly shot down by her husband as she tries to speak in company; when her husband asks around the table at the men’s life plans, Freddie points out that he forgot to ask their daughter, Julie, what she thinks. Watson stares at Freddie with stunned admiration as if nobody ever contradicted her husband before, let alone suggest that women might have plans of their own, all this as Julie unashamedly outlines her plans to be a professional photographer. To cap it all, Freddie later brings Watson a drink, and asks her to dance. The way Watson takes all this, what to her is clearly the most pampering she’s seen in years, is simply heartbreaking.

It’s at the Winner’s Ball too that one of the movie’s harshest statements comes, as a retiring salesman is given a reward for decades of hard work… a cheap cut glass (not crystal, Fiennes flatly clarifies) fruit bowl. Freddie of course takes all of this in and it’s here he begins to wonder if this life, though safe and lucrative, is right. The movie (quite literally on the soundtrack) builds to a crescendo after this point as more and more incidents convince Freddie of the “right” path to take. It may all be a little predictable but it’s certainly inspiring.

There are bad things. The overly corny scenes, for example, between one of Freddie’s other friends and a deadbeat dad who turns out to have a sad backstory that sort of comes across as cod Cartwright or something. Don’t get me wrong, this thread works when it gets where it’s going, but it’s inconsistent with the rest of the movie on its way. Ricky Gervais plays Freddie’s father, and simply put he’s just not believable as a father let alone one who’ll get his hands dirty in a factory.

But there are more good things too: a wonderful love scene in a dark room, something I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before – a shared act of creation bathed in red monochrome that just can’t help but be overly intimate (“Why are we whispering?” one of them asks mid-conversation). The production design throughout is simply stunning – it’s a shame for this and Watson (who it bears repeating is just phenomenal) that apparently the movie won’t be eligible for Oscars next year, though perhaps they’ll be noticed at the BAFTAs (with Gervais involved it seems likely).

Cemetery Junction‘s heart, like much of what Ricky Gervais does (on the rare occasion he’s being serious), is absolutely in the right place, and it’s really impossible to quibble too much about any of its failings for this single reason in today’s cinematic climate. I personally could watch it over and over again for Emily Watson alone, and I’m sure most people with a heart will find something here of their own to latch onto just as passionately.