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Jimmys poem mentions a sign from God, and her husband asks if hes religious.
Its a little disturbing for a kid to be talking about God, he says.
Why would you say that?
she asks, in a tone one reserves for racist relatives at Thanksgiving dinner.
He tries to walk it back, but its too late.
Hes outed himself on the wrong side of Lisas retroactive war on the commonality of her life.
Shes still searching for something, despite her familys apparent satisfaction with the everyday pleasures of their middle-class existence.
Her teenage children are decent and smarter than average, but couldnt care less about the sublime.
Its an affair of the imagination, her secret lover is her own self-image.
Colangelo has created complicated, wounded woman with many dimensions, but this didnt feel like one of them.
I shrieked with laughter, then felt a pit open up in my stomach.
And the pit stayed there until the final shot.
