Expecting a tale of melancholy and heartache, with Spielberg’s name on the tin and promises of a tear-jerker (even the woman next to me apologised in advance for fear of blubbing), I was met with far less than I had anticipated emotionally.

War House is a tale about a boy, Albert Naracott (Irvine), who grows an intense bond with a horse bought by his father (Mullan) at the market, whom he names Joey. The relationships we see growing between them in the film, as well as numerous other unions involving the horse, did admittedly provoke a few smiles; from the flapping duck to the soldiers’ banter and the unusual war scene between the Englishman and the German. In desperation however, Joey is sold to save their land and is taken to war. Here begins the journey through new friends, new owners and new tribulations.

Joey must have been the olden day equivalent of a man’s best friend and we watch this materialise between boy and foal and eventually (many) man and horse. Respectful and strong, Joey’s behaviour shows unnarrated camaraderie with his fellow equines leaving a path of admiration from those lives he managed to touch along the way, hence acquiring the name: ‘the miracle horse’.

The film aims for inspiring but does unfortunately fall short, in my opinion. The production clearly pushed the boat out and the cast seemed carefully hand-picked – very BBC with the accents and locations – yet, I craved further peaks in the action to pave the way for a more memorable feast for the eyes. I’ve heard the book and the play is amazing so perhaps I’ll see how they compare before I settle my full and final verdict on this one. But for now, it’s a ‘neigh’ (sorry, couldn't resist) rather than a yay from me.

Emily Watson, Benedict Cumberbatch and Eddie Marsan also star.