The Duchess is from the same writer of historical eye-fest Vanity Fair and an adaptation of Amanda Foreman’s book on the ancestor of a certain princess and despite the constant exhuming of Diana’s memory, the timing of the film does seem quite random so long after the book was released and it does seem to be a slightly superfluous historical drama.

The film tells the tale of Duchess Georgiana Cavendish, as she goes from naïve acolyte to scandalous social darling, from her promising marriage to the Duke of Devonshire through to her turbulent extra-marital affairs. Exploring themes of infidelity, emancipation, experimental lesbianism and implications of divorce, the film has much to offer contemporary audiences and history buffs alike; however as with other films of this ilk, the history is uncomfortably wedged into the contemporary framework, picking and choosing the most salacious and empathetic sequences.

Whilst this is understandable for a commercial film (and certainly the salacious parts keep your interest over the dull Whig politics and sombre misogyny), however, with only a few in jokes thrown in for good measure (the inclusion of the play School for Scandal is a witty touch), the film underrates the intelligence of its audience and perhaps could have better employed the tongue in cheek, accessible intellectualism of a historical epic such as Shakespeare in Love.

The ‘relevant damsel’ figure is Knightley’s forte however, having chalked up a cache of wisecracking corset wearers, such as her ass-kicking Guinevere, and she bestows an anachronistic feistiness upon Georgiana, which is at times as jarring as the heavy-handed Lady Di comparisons; a grossly blatant marketing tool, sinking the film to the depths of Daily Mail obsession. A scene showing Georgiana cheerfully serving beer to the local peasantry is particularly eye rolling and unnecessary as it rings so untrue and makes you wonder whether the thinly veiled alias of Georgiana is worth the pretence. I kept expecting her to refer to the Duke of Devonshire as Charles.

Which brings us to the part played by Ralph Fiennes, an astounding actor with a well established repertoire, who is tragically side-lined into a one-dimensional villainous role as Georgiana’s misogynistic, tradition-bound husband who reveals redeeming facets of his character too late for us to care. He exists in the stiff-upper-lip echelons of high society, and in spite of the fact that his history too is exposed for all and sundry, the film reduces him to the ranks of moustache twirling deviant (sans moustache although sporting what seems like one of the leftover wigs); whilst his headstrong wife slowly develops a complex and multi-faceted character as she is wrestled into domicile domesticity Georgiana’s lover Earl Grey (tea please…) fares no better, with the unfortunate look of a trounced up chav.

Georgiana’s retreat into scandal with him is unsurprising when her boorish husband is considered; however why she would gravitate to such a timorous and moon-eyed lover is more mysterious; it is yet harder still to see Dominic Cooper as the ideological leader of a rebel party. Therein lies the film’s problem; as in many period dramas overtly aimed at women, the male characters are woefully underdeveloped. This black and white characterisation alongside Georgiana’s manipulated empowerment, favoured over accuracy (for fear of controversial attitudes), patronizes the predominantly female demographic. This attitude is confirmed when you consider that in inverse proportion to the characterisation, the costumes, settings and hairstyles are extravagant, lavish and meticulously researched affairs. The film is saturated with the gentle pastels and intricate filigree of Georgian England’ and is the visual equivalent of an afternoon at Laduree.

Georgiana’s character trajectory is challenging, and Knightley as a young actress handles the role with maturity despite occasional moments of petulant and po-faced overacting. Charlotte Rampling as her mother and Hayley Atwell as her friend and love rival Bess offer strong support with their austere and vulnerable characters and account for some of the more engaging scenes in the film. Curiously Georgiana’s turbulent situation ends on a historically satisfactory note which may irk a contemporary audience when juxtaposed with her earlier independent attitude, but it is intriguing that at least some risky decisions were implemented in favour of the facts.

Ultimately, much like Georgiana’s entrapment in a beautifully constructed social cage, the film is a slave to style and it is too conscious of its audience and potential profit to be of use as a historical account, and too unevenly mired in moral concern to be enjoyed as the chick flick it truly is.