Why is CHEERFUL WEATHER FOR THE WEDDING such a damp, tiresome non-entertainment? It comes back to my central bugbear about British film directors and storytelling. Essentially, a lot of them aren’t concerned with empathetic viewpoint characters, emotional engagement, narrative surprise and something akin to a satisfactory resolution. What they get thrown by are budgetary restraints – this is the first film with ‘wedding’ in the title without one – and a misguided sense of the supporting characters. These characters only mean something to us if they mean something to the lead character; when they don’t, they become tedious.

Let me first explain that this is the first film by Donald Rice, by his own admission the son of lyricist Sir Tim Rice. Rice Jr has co-written the script, with Mary Henely Magill, adapted from Julia Strachey’s 1932 novel, which according to the publicity material received acclaim from none other than Virginia Woolf. I cannot vouch for the book but the film is about a young woman, Dolly (Felicity Jones) who locks herself in her room on the day of her wedding, vomits and takes to downing a bottle of rum. At this point one imagines her eyes might glaze over, her gait would get wobbly and she might blurt out inappropriate things like ‘Chelsea beating Stoke 4-nil? I don’t believe it.’ (True, it happened on the day I am writing this.)  None of these is evident in Miss Jones’ performance. (I expect she’s a Reading fan. She was in CEMETARY JUNCTION, after all.)

We sense that Dolly has cold feet and that this wedding – and the honeymoon and a future life in Argentina - is not what she wants. Yet, as far as I can make out, she is not our principal viewpoint character. This is Joseph (Luke Treadaway), the young man with a promising career, who turns up at the house to beseech Dolly. Dolly does not want to see him, but we discover why he wants her. Cue flashbacks: a cricket match, where he crashes into a table; the gift of an ‘Egyptian’ tortoise (bought from a pet store in Ealing); a dance after which cider is drunk; a boat trip where he dives into the water to rescue the oar; and an appearance at the house in the rain where they exchange looks. She leads him into the greenhouse whereupon libido takes over.

There are no flashbacks of him being told that Dolly has been packed off to Albania for some beneficial overseas travel and no explanation why she returns with a willing groom whom she has successfully charmed. At the start of the film – and I mean no disrespect to Miss Jones – I really did not like Dolly.

So why should I care about this tragic turn of events? (SPOILER ALERT) Really it is because she is a liability. Imagine: a society woman in 1930’s Britain pregnant with another man’s child. Think of the loss of reputation and the effect that it might have on the house’s fortunes! After all, there is no father in the house.  In Jane Austen’s time, a century earlier, this attitude is understandable: people did not marry for love but for money, poorer families were saved by beautiful daughters married off to rich landowners. As far as I can tell from this movie, this is not an imperative.

The groom does not make much of an appearance and when he does, he’s an ASS. ‘No, you may not take the tortoise to Argentina. What will he eat?’ ‘She,’ corrects Dolly. ‘The tortoise is a she.’ The groom is the domineering sort. No wonder we did not see the wedding; there would have been no loving looks to be reciprocated.

At the very least, from the supporting characters, I wanted to know why Dolly becomes the sacrificial lamb. As far as I could tell, her fate is not bound up in her family. She has a plain sister whose brooch she borrows without asking and there is another young woman in the house who has designs on the vicar – he’s a widower and the sort who would rather smoke at the table and say grace. (When he does, it’s in Latin.) Then there is Dolly’s mother (Elizabeth McGovern) whose tightly drawn face barely conceals anxiety – I hope it is not botox, she is far too young!

There are a whole raft of British character actors filling out roles such as the disapproving relative (Fenella Woolgar) trapped in a loveless marriage, another relative who is rather too fond of her driver, two men who wander around dreaming of the opportunities for sociability and so forth. The scene stealer is a little boy who sets off confetti bombs to awaken deaf relatives. I didn’t laugh, but the boy has a good time.

Then there is the blind housekeeper – ‘she sees everything,’ we are told, including Dolly and Joseph getting it on. She also wants to see Dolly in her wedding dress. Dolly indulges her and listens to her speech: ‘you are gonna marry a nice ‘andsome man and be very ‘appy’. Frankly, I could have done without the terrible conceit, and the dropping of ‘h’s.

There is a point at which the scandal breaks; Joseph finally confronts Dolly’s mother, after she has told him many times to go and lie down, you are not welcome and the like. At which point Miss Woolgar’s character expresses that she is glad she came; I did not feel this sentiment was earned. She seemed as ghastly as the others.

The film is marketed for viewers with withdrawal symptoms from DOWNTON ABBEY, Julian Fellowes’ popular television soap opera. There, at least we have a surer sense of plot; here, we are supposed to think of sex outside of marriage leading to scandal, yet the plain sister disappears with the driver for comic effect. I don’t think Mr Rice and Miss Henely Magill really thought about consistency of tone and moral view.

There is a hopeful ending – the tortoise is bequeathed back to Joseph. Then again, once Dolly has her child, she would have no need of it. There are no speeches by Joseph about being separated from his future offspring. I found this even odder than the absence of the wedding ceremony.  This is the true narrative: his right to be a father and live with the woman he loves, even though she led him on a bit and is disingenuous. Joseph ought to be having an emotional journey – discovering that one golden summer does not the promise of happiness make (even if there was cider involved). However, he does not learn this lesson. Without an emotional journey – was he really expecting the wedding to be called off (I wasn’t) – there is no narrative. Consequently the film is slow-moving and pointless. I write this out of respect for the commitment of the cast to Mr Rice’s vision. The film was shot in 28 days over six months and involved at one point, the director peeing on an heirloom – all right, a doll’s house - belonging to the Pilkington family, who allowed their house to be used for the shoot.

CHEERFUL WEATHER FOR THE WEDDING opened at the Empire Leicester Square in London on 11 January and is available for digital download and video on demand from Monday 14 January 2013