Padding the deluxe avenues of Manhattan, kindly gentleman Kriss Kringle (Attenborough) is first seen confirming to a child that he is in fact the real Father Christmas. Mr Reassuring he may be, but he's also possessed of a medieval guildsman's pride: seeing the Santa from Cole's department store swigging whisky on a street parade, he wrests the reins away from him and takes over his sleigh, so impressing a Cole's executive (Perkins) that she hires him for the duration. The queues grow legion, until finally he's charged with being an impostor. That's not his only trial: he also has to convince Perkins' precocious daughter, which means delivering her Christmas list of a father, a house and a brother. This is a philosophical movie. How do you prove Santa's existence? It's a shaky business - like this movie - based on trust. All the kids I took loved it. The appeal must lie in the Santa-as-fantasy-grandfather-figure - with bottomless pockets.