This may run counter of the auteur theory, but "Notes on a Scandal" feels much more like a film by writer Patrick Marber than by director Richard Eyre. Eyre does a fine job overseeing performances by a terrific cast that rings true until female hysteria takes over the final act. But in tone and theme, the film has all the hallmarks of playwright-screenwriter Marber's stark, uncompromising misanthropy, if not misogyny.

That would mean neurotic women daring to experiment with unconventional if not outlaw sexual relationships ("Asylum") and the depiction of love as tawdry acts of betrayal and exploitation ("Closer"). While "Scandal" is indeed based on a novel by another writer, Zoe Heller's "What Was She Thinking: Notes on a Scandal," Marber never bothers to import into his screen version any of the wit or subtlety that so pleased its literary critics. Instead, he goes for a dispiriting hard-heartedness.

To whom will such a film appeal? To misanthropes perhaps? Perhaps lonely, bitter folks with no Christmas bird to share with friends or family. Remarkably, Cate Blanchett and Judi Dench almost make sense of these extreme characters. Possibly enough enthusiasts of these fine actresses may turn out to deliver a modest art house boxoffice for Fox Searchlight.

The story tells of a scandal provoked by a colossally foolish affair between a married female schoolteacher and a 15-year-old male student. The arrival of art teacher Sheba Hart (Blanchett) at a comprehensive high school in north London catches everyone off guard. Her slightly bohemian manner and oddly out-of-fashion attire furrows the brows of fellow teachers and provokes sex-crazed male students. One student, Steven Connolly (Andrew Simpson), pursues her with great ardor. He has about him just enough modest artistic talent and a whiff of poverty within an abusive household to provoke her unhealthy interest.

Sheba appears to have a content home life with a lawyer husband several years her senior (Bill Nighy), a teen daughter (Juno Temple) at a difficult age and a cheerful son (Max Lewis) with Down syndrome. Perhaps that contentment comes from this being a household of "semiprofessional drinkers."

But none of these characters narrate the story. That tasks falls to diarist Barbara Covett (Dench), a history teacher nearing retirement who describes herself as a "battle-ax." Barbara takes the novice teacher under her wing. When she discovers the affair, she acts as mother confessor. When it becomes public knowledge, she acts as Sheba's only defender.

However, she proves both an unreliable narrator and friend. She sees Sheba's dilemma as a personal opportunity to gain the upper hand in the relationship. Marber's screen adaptation makes it clear that Barbara's friendship with and defense of Sheba springs from a strong Sapphic impulse.

Barbara believes the affair puts this good-looking woman in her power. When that power fails her, when Sheba shows insufficient compassion for her dying cat -- a cat, for Pete's sake -- Barbara makes certain rumors will spread, thereby destroying Sheba's life and family. From this point on, female hysteria reigns, egged on by an unusually emotional Philip Glass score.

For a while, two of the finest actresses in cinema make these characters believable. Nothing they do in the final act, however, retains this credibility. Nighy certainly earns our sympathy, though we don't really get to know the man. The youngsters are more props than flesh-and-blood characters, more like Barbara's cat, in fact.

On the plus side, the film nicely surveys the scruffy, genteel sections of contemporary London thanks to excellent design by Tim Hatley and cinematography by Chris Menges.