Michael Sheen valiantly gives life to a British icon of the 20th Century. Kenneth Williams was the personification of a walking breathing work of art. Outrageous, painful, shattering at times. I wondered how Williams himself would have reacted to this artistic invasion of privacy. I could have done without the, seemingly endless, masturbation scene. The relationship with his mother is closer to Norman Bates and his than anything I've ever seen outside of a horror movie.
At times I had a feeling that Kenneth Williams was an alien thrown in our mist who adopted a persona that had nothing to do with his parents. Thoroughly out of step. It left me with an irrepressible sadness but I'm glad I've seen it.