A couple of weeks ago, I was recovering from two intensive conferences and an overnight flight home from Chicago via Dublin. An undemanding evening¡¯s viewing was clearly indicated. Scrolling through the new offerings from my streaming service, my eye lit on My Oxford Year.

This, I thought, might fit the bill, with the bonus of some added humour from the representation of a city and university I know quite well. In the same way, a Nottingham cinema audience always finds extra jokes in any Robin Hood movie.?My Oxford Year is, indeed, undemanding viewing but it has a profound moral vacuum at its heart that should disturb audiences.

The basics of the film are recognisably cobbled together from various sources. The core plot is taken from Love Story, the 1970 film with Ali McGraw and Ryan O¡¯Neal based on a best-selling novel by Erich Segal, then a Yale academic. Anna, the American student in Oxford, is a clone of Emily in Paris. The quirky ¡°best friends¡±, who appear from time to time like a Greek chorus, seem to have strayed in from a Richard Curtis movie.

Perhaps the most novel element is that Jamie, the male lead, clearly comes from a background as rich as Brideshead, without the attitude. Indeed, Oxford snobbery gets very short shrift from Anna early in the film. Today, it seems the rich can be the same as any other student but simply drive antique Jaguars.

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Unlike many fictional depictions of academic life, the film does, however, get quite a few things more or less right. Film is a visual medium so the designer outfits may be forgiven, even though it is never clear how Anna, from an ethnic working-class background in Queens, New York, can afford the international student fees for her master¡¯s course.

Some viewers have objected to the description of this course. While it is true that the MA is a paid-for degree at Oxford, the university does offer one-year taught postgraduate courses and there is a limit to the amount of medieval arcana that can be presented to the audience.

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The students do actually appear to do some work, although I suspect that the actual study of Victorian poetry might be a little less pretentious in real life. When Anna suddenly leaves Boat Race celebrations in London, a quick shot establishes that she has used the express bus to get back to Oxford, rather than a limo.

The university and colleges, of course, look as ravishing as ever. The filming in Duke Humfrey¡¯s Library, within the Bodleian, captures one of the most beautiful indoor spaces to be seen anywhere and it is not surprising that it is the setting for one of the big romantic scenes.

The sudden reveal that the professor whose reputation has attracted Anna to Oxford will not be teaching the course because she has taken on some administrative duties is also recognisable. In fact, the professor appears to make a habit of this.

She does, though, appear on the first day to introduce Jamie as her PhD student, who will actually lead the seminars and provide one-to-one supervision while she vaguely oversees his marking of the assessments.

This is the point at which the film¡¯s ethics become questionable. Jamie is Anna¡¯s teacher. While the fact that they are both graduate students may make a relationship less tacky than one between a graduate student and an undergraduate, it does not change the fundamental imbalance of power and responsibility.

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Now it is true that Anna is completely smitten and throws herself at Jamie, despite warnings from the best friends that he is a ¡°serial shagger¡±. This in itself raises?concerns about why he has been given this class to teach, if this is, indeed, his reputation. Is Professor Styan as disengaged from her PhD students as from her master¡¯s course? Would his contact with students not be more closely overseen?

Jamie does turn down Anna¡¯s first invitation to come up to her room for ¡°tea and crumpet¡± but this is on personal rather than professional grounds. To say more would be a plot spoiler, although it is worth noting that Anna appears to be unaware of the double entendre of ¡°crumpet¡± in her invitation.

When they do begin an intimate relationship, this is framed as a mutually convenient short-term arrangement ¨C Anna has a job lined up in Wall Street for the following year and Jamie doesn¡¯t do commitment. Being a romcom, both are, of course, denying their true feelings for each other. There is, though, still no acknowledgement ¨C by any of the characters ¨C that the relationship might be morally problematic. The tragic dimension of the film ¨C see Love Story ¨C seems to excuse everything else.

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This might be overburdening a frothy movie. However, there is a serious point. Every report on sexual harassment in Oxford since I was working there in the 1980s has pointed to graduate students and postdocs as the key fault-line. This may be a reporting bias but it may also be that established academics are better able to manage the temptations. Early-career teachers are closer in age and life experience to their students and may find it harder to maintain boundaries, especially if they are unfamiliar with UK expectations.

The Oxford tutorial system rests on their labour and the university has tried hard both to discourage teacher-student relationships and to manage their consequences. There is certainly continuing debate about whether the university has done enough and whether it has had sufficient cooperation from some colleges.

Nevertheless, the Jamie-Anna relationship clearly crosses the institutional line. A real Jamie would have to declare the relationship and be removed as Anna¡¯s teacher.

My Oxford Year is not intended as a serious critique of sexual misconduct in universities and it would be unfair to judge it in that way. Nevertheless, it does normalise a type of relationship that is deeply problematic, and this should be called out. Tragic love does not excuse all missteps in life.

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Robert Dingwall is emeritus professor of sociology at Nottingham Trent University and emeritus professor and founding director of the Institute of Science and Society at the University of Nottingham.