At the very heart of Kate Winslet’s directorial debut is June. Ensconced in pain, shrinking every minute, yet wholly present — luminous and ethereal, like the snowflakes she so loves. Is that because of Helen Mirren, who plays her with such majestic brittleness, or is it the character itself? The answer hardly matters in this admittedly sentimental holiday movie that pulls at even your black little cynical heart.
June’s cancer has spread, and around her hospice bedside sit her children: Julia (Kate Winslet), Helen (Toni Collette), Molly (Andrea Riseborough), and Connor (Johnny Flynn). The room is heavy with grief, with memories of fights that have left scars, unexpressed grudges, and bitter resentments. And then there is their father, Bernie (Timothy Spall), who is as annoying as he is funny; brusque, but with a heart bursting with affection. Forced to confront it all, the siblings are pulled apart as much as they come together.
Winslet’s frames are intimate and cosy, and she really does try to keep the mawkishness at bay. But that’s hard when the plot is all about a much-loved mother dying and all you are doing is sitting around waiting to know when. There are predictable reunions, and the last-minute emotional ups play out quite reassuringly. Molly’s redemption arc, though, is quite patchy and does not ring very true.
Still, like a good holiday movie ought to, it makes you reflect on your own life, loves, relationships, and what to hold on to and what to let go. And yeah, keep those hankies handy.