
Flicks, Matt Glasby
Here as ever, Tucci is the most charming of performers. But something about the use of celestial metaphors and, more generally, the treatment of dementia seems heavy-handed. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make people cry, but calling down the stars while killing your leading man in awful increments are very blunt tools with which to do so, especially in a film so delicate, and you’re left feeling as much manipulated as moved.
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