It's a sobering thought that if JM Barrie lived today the best he could have expected would be consideration for inclusion in the Paedophile Register.

At worst, he would run the risk of being strung up from the nearest lamp post by those defenders of what is right and proper - the good citizens of Portsmouth.

After all, what is there to think about a married man who cultivates a widow's four young boys in a local park and then suggests playing cowboys and indians in the back garden.

Thankfully, such curtain-twitching interference from those-that-know-what-is-best doesn't feature in this richly poignant tale of the celebrated children's author.

Trapped in a loveless marriage and faced with yet another box office flop, playwright Barrie (Depp) feels he is at the end of his emotional and creative road.

However, a chance meeting with Sylvia Llewelyn Davies (Winslet) and her offspring gives him the chance to exercise his rich imagination... while capturing theirs.

It's not long before Barrie is offering the family use of his weekend cottage and forging an unconventional friendship - yet not romance - with Sylvia.

The keyword for director Marc Forster, who made the acclaimed Monster's Ball, is restraint and the whole story is subtly rendered by a sterling cast who rein in their starrier inclinations.

Depp, replete with convincing Scottish accent, gives a wonderfully understated portrayal of the author while there's low-key but quality support from Dustin Hoffman as his impressario and Julie Christie as Sylvia's stern mother.

However, it is child star Freddie Highmore, as the young boy who fires Barrie's narrative fantasies, that astonishes.

Such is his ability to wrench open the tear-ducts he should be on a retainer with Kleenex.

Word of advice; wear wellies as the cinema will be awash with tears.

Tim Evans