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Using history for narrative inspiration can be a double-edged storytelling sword.

Granted you have a deep well on impossibly dramatic stories to dwell on, larger-than-life figures and epically heroic outcomes, all of which are custom made for big screen adaptation; however there is also the problem of historical elements not always taking place in a compressed enough timeframe or in a tidy linear progression which lends itself to audience-pleasing A to Z narratives.

The solution, of course, is to bend facts here and historical notes there to form the sort of story that will work well in a movie; Hollywood has done it for years, giving birth to that famously obtuse phrase “Based on a true story …”

But what if knowledge of a particular event is limited – where to then oh storytelling wizards?

In the case of the romantically delightful A Royal Night Out, you take what little you do know and extrapolate from there, imaging what it would be like if you were Crown Princess Elizabeth (Sarah Gadon) and Princess Margaret aka P2 (Bel Powley) and you were suddenly given the freedom of London on the night of VE Day.

Well, limited freedom anyway, with the King and Queen (played by Rupert Everett and Emily Watson respectively) laid down understandably strict rules for where their hitherto-cossetted daughters could venture on this historical night.

Chaperoned by stuffy military officers, who become far less so as the night wore on, the two princesses – sensible though longing for adventure Elizabeth and giddily excitable Margaret, invested by Powley with enough exuberant joie de vivre for 10 movies – embark on a world-opening excursion into a London celebrating the end of war in Europe and the many possibilities that opened up.

That, as far as it goes, is that as far as known history goes.

As a 2015 article in The Telegraph noted, the now Queen Elizabeth herself has confirmed the broad brushstrokes of events that led to the two princesses enjoying a fantastically rare night on the town, ostensibly to gauge the public’s reaction to the King’s speech marking the end of the war.

But once Elizabeth and Margaret are out the gilded doors of Buckingham Palace, little is known of what went on that night so screenwriter Trevor de Silva and Kevin Hood have free rein to imagine what a rare night of freedom might mean to the young royals.

True to the spirit of the feel good, sugary confection that A Royal Night Out turns into with beautifully-written comedy of errors narrative anchoring it all the way, their adventures are both substantially authentic – well as authentic as an imagined, fun-filled outing can be; suffice to say, you can imagine two teenagers, for that is what the princesses to all intents and purposes, relishing the change to let slip their normal responsibilities for one giddily exciting night – and deliciously, hilariously sitcom-ish.

Leavening out the chaotic joy of a light and fluffy narrative are some touching moments, particularly when Elizabeth, having met a decidedly anti-royal airman named Jack Reynor (Jack Hodges) and first sparred and then bonded with him, and he with her much to his reluctance, finds herself surprisingly challenged to reassess what she wants from life.

Not that she can act on those impulses or realisation since duty trumps all when everything is said and done, but the scene where she drops Jack back to his air base is inherently moving because it acknowledges that there must be a tension between obligation and inclination, no matter what your station in life.

That’s not to suggest that A Royal Night Out is a searing in depth exploration of the pressures of life of the royal family, and particularly that of Britain’s current ruling monarch, but one thing this delightful film full of bonhomie, laughs and riotously good cheer does well, is shed a little speculative light on what may be like.

It’s all fun and froth in large part, but it works because of that extra small substantial element that humanises Elizabeth and Margaret, and on a wider level, helps you to understand what it must have been like to live through such an important part of the twentieth century.

Another reason it works as well as it does, rolling a romantic comedy, a buddy comedy caper and an historical film into one, is that it doesn’t take itself too seriously despite all those explorations of noblesse oblige vs. the unfettered indulgence of the human spirit.

A Royal Night Out is, at its core, a gleefully rich, spirited rollicking good time of a film, one which takes the kernel of a true story and makes merry with it, in the process delivering up a warm, funny and thoroughly enchanting movie that will have you laughing, sighing and wishing that everyone, no matter who they are, could get their fairytale ending.

It’s a rare thing indeed these days to walk out of a romantic comedy, more popularly referred to as rom-coms, with your head held high, a skip in your step and a strong sense that the world is a wonderful place.

Too often you are left with a nagging feeling that more could have been done, that the script is deficient, the actors unequal to the task or simply lacking in chemistry, and that if this is the face of love in the 21st century, it needs to seriously consider a nip and a tuck and a stringent regime of Botox injections.

The sheer delight of Ali’s Wedding, directed by Jeffrey Walker to a finely-balanced, near-effortless screenplay by Osama Sami (with Andrew Knight), and it is a delight in every gloriously positive sense of the word, is that Australia’s first Muslim rom-com possesses nary a moment when you think something else, something better, could have been done.

That is not to say it is a perfect piece of cinema, but it is so close to garnering that high accolade and so suffused with a warm, rich, funny sense of life’s complications and beguiling possibilities, that it’s near impossible not to leave the cinema believing that pretty much anything in life can be achieved, staggeringly high, intractable expectations by family and society be damned.

This is largely due to the highly autobiographical nature of the narrative which recounts the quirky story of Osama Sami life story which is winningly abundant in the kind of expectation-bucking events and spirit that you would expect of someone always destined to follow his own path.

Destined he may have been but Sami, who plays the role of chief protagonist, Ali, the lovestruck son Iraqi refugee and senior cleric of the local mosque, Mehdi (Don Hany), has to battle against some fairly significant currents to make his own way in the world, in this case the suburbs of Melbourne.

It’s not his family that is the problem necessarily.

Certainly, his mother (Frances Duca) is dead set on him becoming a doctor and when he announces to the world that he has successfully passed his entry exam to Melbourne University with a score of 96.4 – beating his arch-nemesis, the unceasingly ambitious Luay (Shayan Salehian); his father Sayeed (Majid Shokor) performs a similar function for Mehdi – beaten only by the secret object of his considerable affection Dianne (Helen Sawires), she embraces the idea of a medical professional in the family with a comedic intensity that is a pleasure to watch in action.

No, the real problem for Ali is Ali himself, pushed down by real and imagined expectations by society and the community, the sort of pressures (real and imagined) that anyone who has had a high-profile parent of any stripe and grown up in a community of fairly conservative expectations will relate to immediately.

It is that immense relatability, even as Sami does an exemplary job of casting a positive, highly-authentic spotlight on the Muslim community in Australia, that is key to the many delights of this uniformly enjoyable film.

In the guise of a finely-wrought rom-com, Sami explores the many ways in which the Muslim community is wholly different from the wider society around it while being driven by many of the same imperatives that any parent who wants the best for their child or anyone longing for the very best life can bring them, will recognise in an instant.

In other words, while the world he inhabits has many unique characteristics and customs, many of which are given an affectionately comedic slant in ways that only a true insider can sympathetically manage, it is also universally human, something that came to me quite profoundly when I realised his life as a cleric’s son mirrored my own as a Christian minister’s son near exactly.

And, of course, love is as universal as it gets, and Ali’s Wedding uses this to genuinely heart-warming effect, recognising that though the setting may change – in this case the tug of war between Ali’s arranged marriage to Yomna (Maha Wilson) and his driving need to win the hand of Dianne, herself beset by familial pressures – that the impetus to be with the one you love is something that anyone with a beating heart will know and understand.

It is the near universality of human experience that gives Ali’s Wedding, which could have quite easily been just another quirky, lightweight rom-com, though still I suspect a damn good one even so, such substance and likeable intensity alongside the steady stream of well-delivered quips and wry observations.

This is a film that doesn’t simply want to provide laughs, though it does that exceptionally well, or give us a warm-and-fuzzy ain’t love grand feeling, though again it exceeds there in remarkably touching ways, but it wants to say something meaningful.

The genius is that is does this near subversively, eschewing even a hint of lecturing polemic in favour of simply showing us what life is really like in the Muslim community, but more particularly in the life one earnest young man who doesn’t quite fit the mold and likely never will.

It grants Ali’s Wedding some heft and emotional resonance, in turn gifting us one of the most sweet, funny, well-rounded and remarkably affecting films in quite some time, one that doesn’t even hint at cliche or tropes in its whimsically serious quest to prove to us that, even in real life and against some fairly insurmountable odds, love can actually conquer all.

SNAPSHOT
From Warner Bros. Pictures and DC Entertainment comes the epic action adventure starring Gal Gadot, Chris Pine, Connie Nielsen and Robin Wright, directed by Patty Jenkins. Before she was Wonder Woman, she was Diana, princess of the Amazons, trained to be an unconquerable warrior. Raised on a sheltered island paradise, when an American pilot crashes on their shores and tells of a massive conflict raging in the outside world, Diana leaves her home, convinced she can stop the threat. Fighting alongside man in a war to end all wars, Diana will discover her full powers…and her true destiny. (official synopsis courtesy Warner Bros.)

Wonder Woman is officially a box office-bestriding phenomenon ($US 300 million and counting in international sales).

A long overdue big screen retelling of the story of the most iconic female superhero out there – and I would argue one of the most compelling ever – Wonder Woman is that rare blockbuster, possessed of impressive action, rich characterisation, a well-rounded, beautifully-articulated protagonist (thank you Gal Gadot) and a thoughtful narrative that tackles themes of war and broken humanity without once feeling like an overwrought polemic.

It deserves all the success in the world and more, something that the folks over as Poster Posse agree most heartily with as evidenced by their collection of gorgeously evocative alternative movie posters that capture the spirt and feel of a film that should be considered one of the best films of the year and one of the best superhero movies ever.

It’s that good, and so are these brilliant posters.

You can check out more at Poster Posse here and here.