There isn’t even a million pounds in Millions: another Danny Boyle film happy to have slipshod continuity and a half developed script in favour of whizbang visuals and admittedly impressive control of the screen. But unfortunately all of this is to naught with me in a film set at Christmas where kids play in the fields in mid December in short sleeved shirts and never get muddy. Indeed it is all to naught with the implausible idea that the deadline for handover to the Euro would be Christmas Day. Or indeed that this admittedly great idea for a film (kids find lots of money two weeks before it is worthless) is pretty much flushed down the toilet for a tale about dealing with the death of their mother.

Millions is not a bad film, but it does not seem to understand its audience (who I admittedly am not part of). It almost seems to condescend to them, with its almost disturbing fantasy scenes of visitations by saints and a scary villain who comes from an inept tradition more out of 101 Dalmatians than frightening one Boyle probably wanted to promote. The films morality is shaky, its message about charity is more than confusing and the plot just does not really make much sense. Millions is one of those annoying films which could have been so much better, with just a little bit more work on Frank Cottrell Boyce’s script.

Boyce has also written a book of Millions which has been recently nominated for a prize. Oddly the quirk packed, loose plot would probably work rather well in a kids books where “And then this happened” is more acceptable way of developing plots.