A heinously self-indulgent love letter to herself from Barbara Windsor, penned by her long-time friend and collaborator, Tony Jordan, with heavy input from herself including far too many cameo appearances speckled throughout.
If the subject matter wasn't so self-serving, and if it hadn't already been done better previously (also with Ms Windsor in a cameo as herself), this might have been a little less vomit-worthy, since technically it is a pretty well-made film with excellent cinematography, production design, and editing. There are also some very good performances.
However, the structure of this piece is annoyingly self-conscious, with a middle-aged Babs (and occasionally the elderly one played by herself) interacting with younger incarnations of herself and other characters from her past, all backstage at a seedy theatre, as she narrates, converses, and analyses her way through a history of daddy-issues and gangster boyfriends, with occasional shrill renditions of "Sunny Side of the Street" to alleviate the tedium.
Essentially this is written and structured like a stage play, and it would probably have worked much better in that medium. On film, however, it comes off as tacky, forced, and muddled.
As well as having far too many actresses playing Ms Windsor, including herself - often all at the same time - there are also archive film clips of her, giving us in the end a rather unpleasant case of too-much-Babs-itus!
The final embarrassing self indulgence occurs at the very end when the real Barbara Windsor steps into a spotlight and sings "Sunny Side of the Street" to an audience of her friends and family, including Tony Jordan.
All in all, then, a cinematic circle-jerk. Sometimes it's a good selling point for a movie to recommend that you bring plenty of Kleenex. Not in this case!
