An echo from a time when social mobility looked easy and 'A-type ladies in E-type Jags' were the goal of every bright young man. If, despite Nic Roeg's lush photography, the glittering prizes look horribly tarnished, that only deepens the black comedy. Jimmy Brewster's climb to the top comes without angst or guilt or tragic sacrifice; he doesn't sell his working class soul, but merely steals one with a better pedigree. Frederic Raphael's witty script and Donner's tricksy direction superbly capture a world where image is everything. Trumpeting that robust contempt for the establishment that was the essence of TV's That Was the Week That Was satire, they hack their way through social conventions to expose the grubbily materialist heart of 'Swinging London'. Salutarily un-nostalgic.