This plays out very conventionally and the comedy is kept light. Actually, it's kept just short of the point where potential audiences might not tolerate a senior sexual union. As soon as you notice this you begin to twig that there will be something that will emerge from under the carpet of gentle string sections and quaint winter years discoveries. When that appears it is both alarming and heartwarming and, finally, this seemingly anodyne picture of hope in later years becomes one of real preparedness. The ending of this film is extraordinary.
John Lithgow and Blythe Danner as the central duo shine as a couple of colliding forces: he's hoarding for the future and she fills her house with the past and both will need to let go of these things. This can edge towards poignancy but a very fine game of balance is being played here. Perhaps too fine as the resulting smoothness does not lull so much as drag at its worst. Gentle indications of youth fleeing or advising with their own fresher wisdom feel too gentle where they might do better erupting. Still, a pleasant and thoughtful meditation on the need to recognise what's important, even if that's arranging deckchairs on a Titanic.
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