I went with my daughter yesterday to see the film He Named Me Malala.  It's an extraordinary mix: the unique, improbable story of Malala's path to the Nobel Prize (with detail of the titanium plate they had to insert into her head after the shooting, and all the efforts to recover the use of her muscles), and the her apparent capacity to maintain the life of an ordinary schoolgirl with two brothers, in a Birmingham home.  I found it moving, and for once inspirational is an appropriate description. The film is founded on the way her father encouraged her, and other girls, to carry on with their schooling.  He poses the…