Historical epics have taken it on the chin lately, between the pretty but superficial Queen of the Desert and the earnest but inert The Promise. Solemn and self-important to a fault, both could have used the relaxed, jaunty brio that fills Their Finest, a World War II comedy that, despite its light hand, never compromises the grief and loss that lie at its core.
Adapted from Lissa Evans' 2009 novel Their Finest Hour and a Half, the movie follows a group of screenwriters tasked with creating propaganda for the British war effort, in the midst of the London blitz. Recruited after the Ministry of Information spies some of her clever lines in the newspaper, newcomer Catrin Cole (Gemma Arterton) is assigned to write "slop" - otherwise known as women's dialogue - in films designed to boost national morale.
Leaving her husband, Ellis (Jack Huston), an artist and wounded Spanish Civil War veteran, at home, Catrin plunges into the world of women's work, propaganda and showbiz, befriending a cynical colleague named Buckley (Sam Claflin).
Sneaking in some proto-feminist female agency into her storylines, she becomes the trusted script doctor to Ambrose Hilliard, a semifamous actor who is cast in Catrin and Buckley's latest production, about the evacuation at Dunkirk.
That vain, rather silly fellow is played by Bill Nighy, in a performance crafted to pilfer every scene he's in. Lanky and spaghetti-limbed, Nighy provides much of the comic relief in Their Finest, which lovingly lampoons the cockamamie cavalcade of cinema, especially the sausage-making ritual whereby a real-life story becomes massaged into stirring, audience-friendly entertainment.