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.
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