Boring, dreary, low-budget chamber piece about a dying woman, her emotionally vacant husband, and dysfunctional adult kids -- an apt metaphor for the state of the UK, and British cinema in particular.
Booze, nose rings, new-age therapies, mixed-race kids, and foul language attempt to connect to a contemporary audience, but this degeneracy has a more sinister purpose -- to contrast with a saintly male African nurse in a hamfisted woke subtext.
Like all actors โplayingโ cancer, Helen Mirren is unconvincing. She doesnโt look ill or sound ill. It's just Helen Mirren in a bed, groaning intermittently and relying on her reputation to carry the movie.
By the end, itโs not June taking her last breath โ itโs the viewer who really dies.