Roman Polanski is not a name normally associated with the kind of films you'd take the wee ones to watch.

Indeed, Polanski – who is bound to living in France due to the threat of deportation thanks to a sex crime from many moons ago – does not seem like the ideal candidate to film a story set in London either.

Perhaps it was the presence of these challenges that brought the best out of Roman, whose experience and ability in crafting film have contributed to a darker, moodier tale than the one we are accustomed to.

The screenplay is, as one would expect, identical to that of the previous stage and BBC incarnations. It opens with Oliver demanding some more, and follows him on his travels from under a kitchen table to the wide world of London, where he meets the likes of Fagin and the Artful Dodger.

However, gone are the cries of ‘you gotta pick a pocket or two,’ replaced with brief but strong acts of violence. See Oliver get bopped on the nose! See a young girl meet the wrong end of Bill Sikes stick!

Sure, these are all the normal plot points, but in the hands of Polanski, they underpin a story that isn't remotely a happy one until the final scenes – and without the relentless singing, there’s no respite from the wicked underworld.

Visually, this is Polanski’s best work for years. Somehow capturing the look and feel of turn-of-the-century London from his imposed French exile, the luscious landscapes and brilliantly realised sets are on a par – if not leagues ahead – of Scorsese’s bigger budgeted Gangs Of New York.

Unlike Scorsese’s failed effort, Polanski’s sets are, as they should be, merely backdrops for some truly outstanding performances. Each and every actor has a field day - from Paul Brooke’s Mr Grimwig to Alun Armstrong’s Mr Fang.

Barney Clark does all that is required of him as Oliver, although he appears to be more of an observer to the story than most incarnations, while Harry Eden is the truly outstanding member of the child set.

Sir Ben Kingsley, meanwhile, is astonishing as Fagin, embodying every single twitch and mumble to truly bring the character to life.

If there is any criticism leveled at this, the 19th treatment of Dickens’ characters, then it’s a lack of emotional attachment. Some would argue that Oliver is supposed to bring tears to the house. But that’s unlikely here.

Other than that, this is surely the definitive incarnation of Dickens’ classic, with Roan shaving just enough frames from the violent outbursts to make this suitable for the kids.

Rich Phippen