Hysteria, Seven magazine review - Telegraph For the most part, Chicago-born Wexler settles for the compromise option of mild farce, ushering a discreet strain of panto through a succession of well-appointed exam rooms. Granville (Hugh Dancy) develops RSI as a result of his treatments, and vacillates romantically between the ever-bicycling suffragette Maggie Gyllenhaal and her meeker sister Felicity Jones. Rupert Everett turns up, pulling epithets from his top hat. Meanwhile, the entrance of Sheridan Smith, as harlot-turned-housemaid Molly the Lolly ("fancy a lick?"), and Ashley Jensen, as a working-class lass named Fannie, suggests the writers had the makings not of a feature, but of a half-promising limerick. Belatedly, Hysteria shows you exactly where it went wrong. A last-reel courtroom drama - in which the establishment puts a woman's body on trial, with enforced hysterectomy one possible outcome - momentarily raises the stakes, tells us something of these times, and chimes with those latter-day patriarchs instructing women what they should do with their uteri. Rushed and token in its telling, this should have been the whole film. Wexler is keener to tickle than to teach us, but in doing so her decidedly quaint and under-stimulating comedy turns the female orgasm into a sniggering joke - which surely can't have been the intention, can it?