dir. Iain Morris
American student Anna arrives in Oxford to study Victorian poetry for a year. The very premise is already unconvincing due to the inconsistent picture of Anna. She’s a supposed literary genius, although her bookshelf seems to only consist of famous, obvious classics like Jane Eyre and Emma. When she goes to a fish and chip shop and is asked what kind of fish she wants, she somehow doesn’t seem to understand the question. Her observations in seminars are simple and perfunctory – yet they seem to capture the attention of her grad tutor Jamie. They fall in love quickly and with no discernible chemistry on screen. Somehow, none of the academic staff or students seem to care about this blatant power imbalance at all. The dubious ethics of a tutor potentially giving a student preferential treatment, or blackmailing her into a relationship by holding the prospect of bad grades over her head, are never even hinted at. But ethics clearly don’t matter to anyone in this film, with Jamie keeping a hugely important secret from Anna for months. Instead, the focus is much more on the antics of the various annoying side character stereotypes – every one more exceedingly British than the last – and ensuring they’re all paired up by the end of the movie. With its heightened clichés of England, lacklustre central romance, and goofy comic relief, My Oxford Year manages to feel a whole lot longer than a year.
BMDb 