I could not care less about the perverse, monstrously irresponsible father (played by Woody Harrelson) of a New York magazine writer named Jeanette Walls.  Admittedly, The Glass Castle (2017), based on Walls’s memoir, is incessantly interesting—and vivid—but that’s all.  I mostly agree with Stephen Whitty:  “This is grim material, but well worth a movie.  The problem is that this film seems reluctant to really confront it.”  MAYBE it’s well worth a movie; I don’t know.  The stuff about its reluctance, though, is incontestably true.

What is not reluctant, or unknowing, is the honest acting.  It nearly makes this an valuable film.