A tough sell: British playwright Ronald Harwood adapts his autobiographical stage drama into loud, bellowing film about WWII Shakespearean theatrical troupe saddled with an aged, blustery, brilliant-but-unreliable star at the end of his tether. The actor's effete assistant works diligently to get his master coiffed and costumed for a production of "King Lear" (during an Air Raid!), yet both men are losing their grip on their unraveling situation. Based on the waning years of actor Donald Wolfit, whose dresser was Ronald Harwood, this acclaimed production would seem to be a welcome haven for scenery-chewing thespians. Unfortunately, Albert Finney (at this point in his career, not at all elderly) seems too robust and quick-thinking to play the actor; Finney (and Oscar-nominated director Peter Yates) cannot modulate Sir's moods and bouts of coherency in a way that makes sense to us, so that in one scene he's stopping a train with the commanding echo of his voice, and in the next he's curiously falling apart. With such a wreck of a human being in the midst of failing health and aptitude, one would assume a dedicated assistant would go to great lengths to protect his boss (and his future), yet servant Tom Courtenay prods and badgers and goads Finney to carry on rather than rest. Courtenay, who played this part on stage (and was nominated for an Oscar alongside Finney for Best Actor), is far more attuned to his role, and eventually his bleating commands and confusion achieve the only real feeling in the film. These two, thankfully, do not peck at each other's heads, and scenarist Harwood is careful not to fall into a love-hate pattern (which could possibly be perceived in the film's first act); but, without a juxtaposition of servant vs. celebrity, there's nothing much to behold in this portrait except for the deterioration of narcissism, the hint at what once was. *1/2 from ****