Evening belongs to that genre of yummy-looking literary adaptations that Swedish director Lasse Hallstrom used to make: The Cider House Rules, Chocolat, The Shipping News... And, like them, it’s a bit of a pudding.

Hungarian former cinematographer Lajos Koltai will not be the last European filmmaker to catch a dose of schmaltz on his first trip to Hollywood. But this is a real dramatic letdown after his wrenching Holocaust story Fateless.

The present-day half of the story finds terminally ill Ann (Redgrave) being looked after by a night nurse (played with trademark Scottish doughtiness by Eileen Atkins) and her daughters, happily settled Connie (Richardson) and flighty Nina (Collette).

Drifting in and out of lucidity, Ann is beset by memories of a fateful weekend back in the 1950s when she was maid-of-honour for her old college friend Lila Wittenborn (Gummer).

Arriving at the Wittenborn’s ostentatious family pad on the New England coast, Ann (now played by Danes) is greeted by Lila, her mother (Close) and her younger brother Buddy (Hugh Dancy).

Buddy aspires to be a writer but the only thing he has in common with Hemingway is a taste for the sauce. He is also clearly smitten with Ann. Keep your eye on that one; he’s trouble.

Lila, meanwhile, clearly loves the housekeeper’s son Harris (Wilson, Little Children), now a ridiculously eligible doctor. But one doesn’t marry the help, so she’s lumbered with some dull Johnny-come-starchy.

Which leaves Ann free to sing a duet with Harris at the reception... They work on their harmonies in private later on. It's the beginning - and end - of a beautiful friendship.

As the young Ann, Danes does a nice line in pretty frowns, self-deprecation and hypocrisy. Just hark at her, dishing out advice on love, integrity and pursuing one’s ambitions while ditching her own singing career at the first drop of a sprog. The nerve.

Wilson is blandly fine as a sort of upmarket Mellors to Danes’ Lady Chatterbox, Dancy makes the most of his predictably ill-fated role, and Collette is as watchable as ever.

Gummer also acquits herself well as the fretful Lila, though she’s saved the ignominy of being upstaged by her mother as they play the same character at different stages in life. Richardson is not so lucky. Close doesn’t get much chance to shine either.

From colour-saturated seascapes to moonlit walks in the woods, it all looks a treat. But you’ll soon have your fill of stodgy melodrama, sugar-coated clichés and empty pauses. Pauses… which... last... for... ages... and...

…ages.

Most of these are reserved for Redgrave. Not since Gerard Depardieu uttered Cyrano de Bergerac’s last words and O.J. Simpson staggered round the set of The Naked Gun has a film character taken so long to shuffle off this mortal coil.

Recycling ideas and characters from 250 years of romantic literature without adding any new ones of its own, Evening is like dining with Jane Austen and Barbara Cartland and not being allowed to get down from the table.

Elliott Noble