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London, 1961: Jenny was sixteen, her face clean of Carey Mulligan and a dream: to go to Oxford. A day of rain, while it is under the shower in the company of his cello, awaiting the arrival of a fulminant pneumonia, meets David (Peter Sarsgaard), 30, beguiling stranger-looking old man at the wheel of a custom-built convertible type, which gives with a shift from mild-mannered serial killer. She obviously agrees, unless the audience, but we're just beginning the adventure film Nick Nornby and things can still improve. Jenny's parents, inept ever fall from the clouds, accepted without a murmur the arrival of David piacione in the life of their beloved daughter and no matter whether these, as well as having almost twice the years of her professional ambitions may ruin them all, because its apparent social status elevates to the rank of a good party and promises stability and security. In fact, under cover as a good British subject, he hides a wolf with the vice of adolescent love and fraud easy, too fragile in his nature to even aspire to lose hair and Jenny finds himself having to deal with the disillusionment who has given up almost everything to point nothing on a dead end. But the redemption from this evil comes to sentimental education over a quarter of an hour after the end of the film, with a sharp turn to resolving the director Lone Scherfig, harassment on the scene in a matter of minutes, clashes with the public and critics of bad timing dramatic construction of the tale, making us get off on the sly from the machine on which we climbed to the top film with good grace. And nothing is worth knowing that the work is taken from the memoirs of British journalist Lynn Barber, because the loss and the feeling that he was walking on the street in a smart easy-to-impact film, seem to be the only things that accompany us during the credits. Mediocre. Rated 5
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