Bright Young Things

Fry establishes himself as an inspired, world-class talent behind the camera and delivers my favorite film of the year thus far.

in its best moments, Bright Young Things is as lithe and as wicked as its source material. Depending on how much of a Waugh purist you are, its flaws may trouble you as you're watching it. But afterward, they might not matter so much.

Fry's film has the frantic energy and kaleidoscopic style of Waugh's feverish prose.

Essentially, the film stays at the party too long. But for a good stretch, its combination of twirling excitement and dry absurdity captures the spirit of characters too intoxicated to realize they're dancing over a chasm.

Fun, giddy, and intoxicating as the endless soirees in which it revels.

An easy-to-digest slice of literate entertainment for upscale and older audiences that lacks a significant emotional undertow to make it a truly involving -- rather than simply voyeuristic -- experience.

The movie, alas, is shackled somewhat by Waugh's original, pedestrian plot, which is too full of discrete incidents and slow to form an overarching story.