Of all the institutions it’s probably ill-advised to take on (the Women’s Institute, the Harlequins first XV, the Parachute Regiment on a Saturday night in Aldershot), perhaps the most terrifying adversary you could pick is the Vatican. For not only does the Holy See exert a fair amount of influence in this world, it also has a pretty dominant position in the next (though I suspect if it has a rival there it is the WI).

So, as a cautious soul, I’m naturally disinclined to go casually into the lists against the Magisterium of the Roman Catholic Church on a matter of faith and history. They’ve got form, after all. And, in any case, I am rather a fan of the current Pope. I’m hard-wired to be pleased when the conservative candidate wins in any election. Not to mention finding much of his writing compelling.

But I fear I have to place myself in opposition to Rome in at least one matter. Rather a ticklish one at that. The current management at the Vatican is apparently less than chuffed at the portrayal of its predecessors in Cate Blanchett’s latest movie — Elizabeth: The Golden Age. The film presents the struggles of the late 16th century in rather black and white terms. And there’s not much white in the depiction of the Roman Catholic Church. The spiritual engine propelling Spain’s Armada against English shores is portrayed as a force for repression and fanaticism, emanating from a kingdom sunk in authoritarian zealotry.

And while I have to confess that I rather enjoyed the scenes in which the austerely pious King of Spain takes counsel with a gaggle of intriguing cardinals, it is nonetheless unarguable that Rome and her Faithful Children get the rough end of the director’s treatment. And, in ordinary circumstances, I would take exception to the portrayal of a Jesuit priest (played with some style by Rhys Ifans) as some kind of proto-terrorist and Philip’s Spain as a sort of Mordor with more forbidding architecture. It’s hardly as though we’re short of people at the moment making money out of caricaturing, or even undermining, the foundation stones of traditional Christian faith.

But while it’s rare to see any artist take a stand any more in defence of the religion that has provided moral scaffolding for millions, it’s even rarer these days to see something else. Something Elizabeth does do. Something which makes it worth overlooking, indeed actively excusing, all its faults as a movie. Elizabethis the first film in a generation made for a mass market in which English feats of arms are depicted as heroic, victorious and virtuous.

I can’t think of any major motion picture since 1969 (the Battle of Britain) in which this country and those who fight on its behalf were paid the compliment of being depicted as good guys, whom history vindicates. There were some films in the Seventies in which British soldiers were allowed to be brave and plucky (Zulu, A Bridge Too Far), but only if they did the decent thing and lost or blundered.

It’s quite remarkable to think that right up to, and including, the early Sixties, film-makers made money, delighted audiences and respected the facts by portraying those who served this country in wartime as heroes. I shan’t rehearse the virtues of Reach for the Sky, The Dam Busters or The Cruel Sea. But since the era in which they were made, the dominant cinematic approach to the British military has been dismissive verging on hostile. Whether it’s straightforward satire (Oh! What a Lovely War), class-based hostility (The Charge of the Light Brigade), beastliness towards our dominion allies ( Breaker Morant) or even sheer Nazi-style wickedness (The Patriot, The Wind that Shakes the Barley), you search in vain for any sense that Britain might, however imperfectly, have once been on the right side, done the right thing, or fought the good fight . . .

There is, of course, no favourable depiction on film of British soldiers liberating the Falklands from one fascist dictator, liberating Kuwait and Iraq from another, nor of their bravery in dealing with some amazingly horrific militias in Sierra Leone. All subjects which might lend themselves to gripping dramatic depiction. But the idea that contemporary British military action might be capable of being presented sympathetically on screen is, manifestly, unthinkable to contemporary film-makers.

It’s remarkable enough that Elizabeth dares to depict English sailors of 400 years ago as heroes, and England’s cause as noble. Remarkable because one had long ago given up much hope or expectation of seeing any new film that could be seen as reflecting any pride in British, and specifically English, history.

Elizabeth does. And for that it’s worth a hymn of thanksgiving. It may be cartoonish at moments, with Clive Owen’s Raleigh having a rather unfashionable dash of the Errol Flynns, and it may take the odd liberty with the historical record. But what makes it worth celebrating is that it records England, historically, as on the side of liberty. Cate Blanchett is magnificent, and her speech when she rallies England’s defenders in the cause of freedom against the looming shadow of the Inquisition is a proper and straight interpretation of our past that accurately captures the ideological attachment to liberty which has been the defining factor in our distinctive progress over time.

That bravery may doom Elizabeth in the eyes of many. And it’s striking that many film critics have already looked askance at the production, finding it insufficiently sophisticated for their palates. But what is more striking to my eyes is that our culture finds it so difficult to generate any work of art, or even popular entertainment, in which the traditions that give our culture meaning are actively celebrated. If we are incapable of believing there is something worth admiring in our past, what does that say about our future?

Noggin the Nogcan reclaim me

If you thought the previous item was as far as any man under the age of 80 dare go in pure bufferish fogeydom then let me disappoint you by going even farther. By praising Five.

I know that Five, having graduated from being the channel with the naughty films on a Friday night, is now a breezily modern kinda station – a sort of fusion of GMTV’s populism with Channel 4’s mix of the outré plus quality US imports. And none the worse for that.

But in the early mornings Five presents a different face. One that is, in the best sense, positively auntyish. For Five puts on a menu of children’s shows that present hard competition to my hitherto-favourite channel, CBeebies. It’s not just that the presence of Stirling Moss lending class to the cartoon adventures of Roary the Racing Car recalls a more gracious age of motorsport. It’s the presence of Noddy and Rupert Bearin the schedules lending the whole channel a wonderfully classic feel.

The innocence of the shows, the respect they show for the original material and the reassuring way they inhabit an existing tradition all endear them to me. And they keep the children quiet as well while I get breakfast ready. Of course there are some rather jarring ads you have to put up with, which CBeebies is, of course, mercifully free from. But then Five does what the BBC would never do now – and revived Roobarb. If CBeebies wants to win us back it will have to pull out all the stops – and that I’m afraid means both Ivor the Engine and Noggin the Nog. . .

Arise, Sir Brucie

To complete my cultural week, I’ve only just caught up with the latest series of Strictly Come Dancing. Gripping. I’m rooting for Kate Garraway. But the most impressive thing about it is, still, Bruce Forsyth. He is the platonic ideal of the light entertainer – it’s impossible not to have your mood lifted by his presence. If Tom Jones and Trevor McDonald can be knights then why not Brucie? Can we start a petition now?

— Michael Gove is Conservative MP for Surrey Heath

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