Based on a play by Mark Handley called ““Idioglossia’’ (which means a self-devised language), the screenplay by Handley and William Nicholson (““Shadowlands’’) luxuriates in Nell’s unpolluted spiritual radiance. And director Michael Apted (““Coal Miner’s Daughter,’’ ““Blink’’) makes sure we feel its every blessed ray. But so much transcendent ultraviolet produces an intense case of soulburn. Foster is hauntingly beautiful; she exudes purity as a rose gives off its aroma. But the rest of the movie sprays us with a New Age aerosol, the fragrance of spiritual escapism. Nell remains free (the threat that she might become a glorified lab animal never seems real) so that she can continue to be the embodiment of this sentimental pantheism. Foster (who produced the movie) is a greatly compelling actress. She wrings tears from the audience in ““Nell,’’ but they come too easily. In her final rejection of civilization, Nell becomes a soft-focus saint in an all too harsh world.
