Cue swirling, maddening violins. Tilda Lydeker (Helen Mirren), aunt to Laura and Rebecca Lydeker, paramour to three-fourths of Beverly Hills circa 1929, and the brains behind the city's third-largest citrus fortune, must drive, and she must drive fast. She knows just how lemonade is made in this town, and she knows Oscar learned the tricks of her trade all too well, and she knows how it all went sour. Oscar may have been just some low-life private dick, and he may have been too free with his fists, but sometimes a woman needs a man who's man enough to remind her that she's a woman—that is, if she's woman enough to take it. And Tilda could take it. Oh, how she could take it. She took it, and she took it, and she took it again. And then once more for laughs. Along for the ride is Tilda's older half-sister, Alma (Judi Dench), issue of their father's youthful dalliance—or was it something more sinister?—with the beautiful daughter of migrant citrus picker
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