The Lord of the Christians used to have class. The Church of Santa Sophia in Constantinople (now a mosque) - that's architecture with class. The Lindisfarne Gospels or Handel's "Messiah" - they've got class. Westminster Abbey - you need to be famous to be buried in there, because that has been the imperial church of an Empire on which the sun never used to set.
Susan (a beguiling Lesley Manville) is a vicar's wife, and the aesthetics of faith have dwindled down to flower arranging: on the altar, or in a vase next to the lectern. Some of the other church ladies would like us to know that they've got flair, they've got talent in flower arranging. Susan knows that she herself has no talent with flowers, but she likes to think she does have taste. Sadly, Susan doesn't have much talent for the many other tasks in which a vicar's wife needs to excel: organizing jumble sales, energizing ladies' groups, and, well, everything.
Geoffrey the vicar is always busy, busy. He visits sick parishioners in hospital, and, when the combined resources of prayer and the NHS fail, he conducts their funerals. He delivers sermons (even one on sex!) that are, if not inspiring, at least reassuring. He dashes off to bless a steam locomotive, because today's church is always on the lookout for new avenues of relevance.
Sometimes "Alan Bennett" and "bleak" appear in the same sentence. Where does Susan seek consolation? The hints trickle out, but there could also be a little surprise. It's the warm but dry sympathy for humanity that we find in "Talking Heads."
