In the film, Judi Dench stars as Barbara Covett, a stiff-upper lip professor of the sort one would expect the Dame to master capably. A figure of seniority, Barbara is seemingly just the craggy, sophisticated standard that clings to the values and mentalities of old, never given another thought during the workday or a second glance in passing in the teacher’s lounge, let’s say.

New to the fold is Sheba Hart (Cate Blanchett), a youthful and attractive woman who has taken up teaching on something of a whim, only to find it desperately out of her commanding grasp. Unruly schoolboys can be a task for any such shrinking violet, and so the bond formed early between a struggling Sheba and an authoritative Barbara is understandable enough.

Told through Barbara’s narration (via deliciously serpentine diary entries), the film becomes about the two women’s friendship for much of the first act. Sheba invites Babs into her home to meet her children (one with Downs Syndrome, the other a teenaged girl of the typical variety – both prodding fodder for Barbara’s recorded observations) and her husband, Richard (Bill Nighy – a much older man with a bohemian sensibility). But the tale turns on a dime when Barbara spots Sheba engaging in a sexual act with one of her students, an affair that has apparently been going on for some time.

Barbara ceases the opportunity to take control of Sheba’s life by holding the information over her head. “I would gain everything by doing nothing,” she notes, and soon enough, it is painfully apparent, yet certainly never indicated outright, that Barbara’s affections for Sheba are much deeper and much more – sensual – that one would have expected. After that, maybe it’s like “Fatal Attraction” with a touch of “The Cable Guy,” a truly dependant woman with a desire for affection holding sway over a weaker individual.

It would be much too simple to claim this performance as Dame Judi Dench’s bravest portrayal to date. It would be even simpler to say it is the most unique performance of her career, but both indications are about as well put as a reviewer can offer. She takes a wonderful, sickening sort of delight in the role, sporting a devilish smirk through most of the film that feels as calculated as any other peculiarity.

Cate Blanchett is fine in the role of Sheba, having one true “she’s losing it” scene in the final act that kind of feels over the top. But for the most part, she holds the character in a highly believable light throughout. Her chemistry with Bill Nighy is intriguing, though he typically boils over the edge of the pan here and there in his emotional outbursts to the revelation of Sheba’s affair. But that’s the nature of Nighy’s acting, and you either like it or you don’t. Personally, I think he adds color to every film he’s in.

However, aside from performances, the real triumph of “Notes on a Scandal” seems to be its direction and pacing. The film is laid out for the viewer in such a wonderful way and is truly suspenseful on every level. Sharp cuts in the editing and intriguing shots throughout keep you on the edge of your seat, as one would expect. And Philip Glass’s score, perhaps his best to date, tells the story as well as the visual elements, functioning more appropriately as a work of musical composition than any other such effort this year.

What’s more, there is something paradoxically safe about “Notes on a Scandal” that makes it strangely more enjoyable. It presents tension without anxiety in a manner I don’t think I’ve ever really seen before. To speak personally, I was pretty sure nothing truly ghastly or terrible was going to happen here, but I was strangely terrified of Barbara nonetheless, and certainly jolted here and there by certain suspenseful elements crafted by director Richard Eyre. In some way, that lack of focus on the style and panache required to install dread in the viewer allowed for a specific investigation of artistic design. The appreciation of what the director put into visually telling the story was left undisturbed, and that seems to be what makes the film go down so, so easily.

Of course, a brilliant and typically pitch-perfect performance from one of the greatest living actresses can never hurt.