It is England in the early nineteen-sixties, a buttoned-down time and place. A girl is standing in the rain after an orchestra rehearsal when a man pulls up in his car and offers her a ride, smiling as he feigns concern for her cello as the motivation for his gallantry. Thus begins the romantic relationship that drives Lone Sherfig’s An Education. It is a romance built less on attraction or heat, and more on simple exposure to an edgier, more daring life. The schoolgirl gains entry to a world of champagne and elegantly smoked cigarettes, horse races and illicit derring-do that stands in stark contrast to her tiresome trudge through academics that promises little more than even duller, more challenging studies to come. She is told she’s throwing away all her potential, but Sherfig’s deft direction and Nick Hornby’s screenplay of easy charm perfectly convey the way she might survey all the jazzy decadence laid before her and determine that it is better than foggy promises. Through her eyes it is the grandest possibilities already realized. It is life lived robustly. Even as enough similar stories have been told to make the crumbling of the facade seem inevitable, it’s easy to be caught up in the sweep of it all, to understand her conviction that the thrill will be eternal. That’s in no small part because of Carey Mulligan’s performance, her marvelously expressive face and quizzical, twinkling eyes making every quickening of her pulse and denting of her heart vividly clear.

(Posted simultaneously to “Jelly-Town!”)