Montreal filmmaker Sharon Hyman's autobiographical documentary Neverbloomers: The Search for Grownuphood is an oddly compelling piece of work about a youngish woman who finds herself consumed by a series of troubling questions: "I'm 40, why haven't I grown up yet?" "What is grown-up?" "What's a real job?" "What constitutes success?" "Do you have to be married to be happy?" "Where do grown-ups live?" "How many children should you have in order to be grown-up?"

Then Hyman picks up her camera and begins a video odyssey to find the answers. These are the director's philosophical dilemmas, the matters that nag her, as she finds herself walking up and over the top of the mountain, down the other side, into the land of middle age.

Both as a movie buff and a veteran leftie, I've been waiting to see The Iron Lady so I could write about it. I even re-read Thatcher's memoirs The Downing Street Years to refresh my memory.

Having now seen the movie, I have to admit that I'm perplexed as to what to say and advise, other than that you should definitely see it and make up your own mind.

Like 99.9 per cent of the critics, it must be said loud and clear that Meryl Streep's performance as Thatcher is magnificent, so much so as to justify seeing the movie for that alone. Above all, Streep is utterly compelling as an old and demented Thatcher, carrying on conversations with her dead husband Denis who is, for her, still present.