An intense drama dealing with mental health issues around grief, guilt, suicide, repression, denial and peppered with extremely cathartic emotional outbursts, I was concerned this might be boring and boy was I wrong.
I was genuinely curious how this could knock Raging Bull out of Oscar contention. Now I get it. It isn’t just the craft (rock-solid); it’s the kind of hurt it refuses to rush. Everything happens inside affluent WASP manners — a world where feelings don’t get expressed, they get handled, tidied up, and smiled through.
Redford lets scenes run long until avoidance starts to creak. At the dinner table, you can hear people reach for the “right” sentence, fail, and grab a joke instead. That’s the film’s cruelty: care turns into management, and “help” becomes a demand that everyone look normal.
Donald Sutherland is devastating as a dad trying to steer by instinct. Timothy Hutton holds the centre without showboating, Judd Hirsch brings brisk, humane honesty, and Mary Tyler Moore wears composure like armour — not evil, just cold. It doesn’t leave you shocked; it leaves you quietly winded.