This isn't the easiest film to sell. A British drama based on a non-fiction book, Philomena follows elderly Philomena Lee's moving search for the son taken from her 50 years ago. You can go look up her results online and spoil the whole spiritual pilgrimage, if you'd like. But then you'll miss Judi Dench's face; the cosmic-sized expanse of strength and fragility, innocence and shame she conveys with the faintest movement. You'd miss Steve Coogan's big, wet eyes. The way they dismiss Philomena's eccentricities, well-up for her suffering, and ignite in rage against at a system who's harmed her. And you'd miss a soft-spoken script (co-written by Coogan) which prattles on about the meddlesome bits of living so much that you don't notice the half-dozen emotional gut punches which sneak up and crumple you to the floor. You should go see Philomena, you should go see Philomena and you should go see Philomena.