The sophomore feature of German-born director Sophie Heldman, this powerfully moving period drama is based on Scotch Verdict, a 1983 book by Lillian Faderman that chronicled a real-life court case so scandalous it kept Scottish lawmakers from the papers for 100 years. Premiering in the Panorama strand at the 2026 Berlinale, the film is technically an adaptation of Faderman’s book. However, in 1934, the original story was adapted into a play by Lillian Hellman, which gave rise to two somewhat sanitized film versions: “These Three” (1936), co-starring Miriam Hopkins and Merle Oberon, and William Wyler’s “The Children’s Hour” (1961), which starred Audrey Hepburn and Shirley MacLaine and was nominated for five Oscars.
The story begins with teachers Marianne Woods (Clare Dunne) and Jane Pirie (Flora Nicholson, who also wrote the screenplay) opening a boarding school on the rural outskirts of Edinburgh in 1810. Seeking society approval, they are delighted when wealthy aristocrat Lady Jane Cumming Gordon (Fiona Shaw) enrolls her two young granddaughters in the school, but there’s a catch – Lady Jane also wants them to admit teenager Jane (Mia Thara), her son’s illegitimate half-Indian daughter. Tensions increase when Lady Jane insists the two women look after Jane over the summer, leading the trio to share a house on the beach and grow close. However, when Jane expresses a desire to become a teacher at the school, Marianne and Jane say no, leading to a vicious retaliatory accusation that threatens the two teachers with ruin and plunges them into a legal battle.
Nicholson’s accomplished, sensitive script gives the story multiple layers, presenting a compelling intersection of race, class, sexuality, and coming-of-age themes, with a little colonialism thrown in for good measure. In addition, the story is a fascinating illustration of the idea that the truth can be complex and elusive, especially when viewed from multiple perspectives. Similarly, Heldman’s beautiful direction presents the story’s underlying emotional aspects in delightfully subtle, understated ways. The feelings between Jane and the two women are conveyed through a series of looks and glances, with nothing made explicit. The cumulative effect of that unspoken emotion is incredibly powerful, making the rejection scene all the more devastating, as we’ve watched Jane come alive under the two women’s influence and affection. Similarly, the damage wreaked by Jane’s retaliation is utterly heartbreaking, and Nicholson’s script expertly delineates every twist of the knife.
The performances are sensational. Dunne and Nicholson have a palpable chemistry together, whilst creating two distinctly different personalities: Marianne is open and warm-hearted, beloved by the students, while Jane is more reserved and level-headed – tellingly, it’s Jane who initiates the court proceedings. As for relative newcomer Mia Tharia (this is only her second feature, after 2024’s September Says), she is clearly a future star in the making, delivering an utterly riveting performance that’s simultaneously achingly vulnerable (the other children at the school largely exclude her) and fiercely independent. In her hands, Jane is determined to carve her own path, and her journey is full of surprises.
As for the supporting roles, Fiona Shaw is perfectly cast as Lady Jane Cumming Gordon, and she finds unexpected layers in what could have been a straightforwardly simple character. For example, you can tell she admires and supports the two women, and her performance allows the audience to interpret that however they see fit. Late in the film, there’s also a terrific turn from Stephen McCole as John Clerk, the lawyer who takes the women’s case. The subsequent details, where the legal establishment simply cannot comprehend the concept of lesbianism, are both comical and absurd, even if it was true to life in 1810.
The film is further heightened by Kate Reid’s gorgeous cinematography, which makes strong use of space, while Isabel Meier’s accomplished production design makes the school (a National Trust property on the outskirts of Edinburgh) feel almost idyllic. Perhaps fittingly for such a strongly female-centered story, the key production roles on the film were also all female, including the editor, Isabel Meier, and art director Gail Bowman. As a final note, it’s worth pointing out the ways in which the same story has been treated from an LGBT perspective over the years. These Three, the 1936 version, was so restricted by the Hays Code that a male character was introduced (played by Joel McCrea) and Miriam Hopkins’ character was accused of having an affair with him, not with Merle Oberon. The 1961 version, The Children’s Hour, came closer to the real-life story (although Jane’s character was still anglicized), but the outright references to lesbianism were still oblique at best.
Ultimately, this is a richly textured, thought-provoking period drama and queer coming-of-age story that does justice to the real-life character of Jane, finally giving her a long-overdue place at the center of her own story