Alex Pillai, produced by Frances-Anne Solomon, Behroze Gandhy and Peter Jaques -- Liberty Theatre, Hamilton.

A doom-laden study in cultural repression among the large immigrant population that has poured into Britain from the Indian sub-continent since the end of World War II, provides the theme for the UK entry, `Flight'.

Director Alex Pillai's somewhat heavy-handed exploration of the problems besetting people whose religious and cultural differences tend to puzzle and sometimes offend the more permissive societal culture of the country they have chosen as `home', will do little to relieve those often stereotyped perceptions.

Obviously well-meaning in his efforts to expose the sometimes shocking plight of women and young girls who are beaten (and bloodied) into submission in this staunchly patriarchal community, Pillai abandons his upbeat and tentatively witty opening, meandering into what is little more than a cautionary and ultimately melodramatic tale. The plot reads straight from a social services-cum-womens' rights documentary where all the moral cards are turned sharply against the clannish and decidedly proprietal menfolk: watching this film, one could be forgiven for rather simplistically assuming that this ancient culture is steeped in nothing more than uncompromising brutality and ignorance. There is nothing here that suggests, let alone speaks, of any of the redeeming aspects of a closely knit society where sexual modesty is not only demanded but taken for granted. As the cleverly probing camera reveals, but Pillai neglects to develop, some of the Western influences (like make-up, pop music and the odd shoplifting spree, to say nothing of casual sex) maybe -- and very probably still are -- considered by the Indian community as a giant cultural step backward.

Pillai does capture beautifully the inherent contradictions in a people whose lilting Indian accents are almost obliterated by the flat, nasal sounds of the northern mill towns they now inhabit; sensitively filmed by Mike Spragg, there is a sharply visual sense, too, of the incongruity of silken saris casting their brilliantly alien hues on the dark, satanic cobblestones of old England.

The predictable plot, set in the 1980s, centres around an academically gifted teenage girl, the eldest of three sisters in a Hindu family, who is especially close to her invalid father. When she is caught in flagrante delicto with a young Muslim man, she is savagely beaten, removed from school and then half-starved for her sins. With the help of a belatedly understanding mother she finally makes a desperate leap for freedom.

Characters are weakly and incompletely drawn with little in the opening scenes to establish the supposed strong affinity between father and daughter which, if the film is to work, should be the bedrock from which all the ensuing tragedy springs. With a script that does not exactly sparkle, there are, however, some finely observed performances from Roshan Seth, Mina Anwar and Meera Syal in the leading roles.

This film marks the directorial debut in a full-length feature for Pillai, a graduate of Britain's esteemed National Film and Television School, whose short films have been widely viewed and won awards at leading festivals. While his sensitivity -- and clarity in the conveyance -- is never in question, a more ironic and detached stance is called for, as opposed to throwing down this `open and shut', sermonising gauntlet in the midst of what is still a perplexing issue.

PATRICIA CALNAN FILM FESTIVAL MPC REVIEW REV