Morgan Freeman and Diane Keaton amble though a bland late-life comedy drama, sentimentally leading their audience in a pointless and unrewarding circle. They’re a loving couple who have lived together for 40 years in a Brooklyn two-bed apartment now worth a fortune, compared to the pittance they paid as newlyweds. Alex (Freeman) is an artist who uses one bedroom as a studio. They decide to cash in and sell, and the stress of moving is compounded by a pet dog being sick and a suspected terrorist putting a downer on the property market. So, are they downshifting to live somewhere cheaper? Erm, well, no. Bafflingly, they have their eye on a Manhattan apartment worth slightly more than the old place. They must have savings to even consider it, though this simple fact is coyly unmentioned, and the film makes a biggish deal about how Alex’s paintings aren’t selling and it’s not clear if Ruth ever had a job. The apparent illogicality of what’s happening could be symptomatic of their emotional crisis, but it is unconvincing and unsatisfying, and this cutesy soft-focus film has nothing much in the way of wit or insight to make up for it.
