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...a remarkably delicate portrait of a shy, recessive but ultimately unsinkable woman entirely free of self-pity that confirms the remarkable watchability of Kristen Wiig.
It's a film about healing; about burnt-out yang being weeded, fertilized, and watered by yin, to grow a relationship tree. But, like, a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
It doesn't take long for us to get lost in Wiig's thorough portrayal of a dowdy housekeeper who must soldier on in the face of a cruel prank to find some kind of love in her life.
Director Liza Johnston elicits some very affecting performances from her talented actors but these are in service to [Wiig's] rather colorless character whose blossoming is a bit hard to fall for.
The buttoned-up, buttoned-lipped Wiig seems to have landed in the Midwest from Mars, as though, like David Bowie before her, she's The Maid Who Fell to Earth
We've never seen a protagonist quite like Johanna, who on the one hand personifies female self-abnegation at its most domesticated, but on the other embodies the sheer will at its most stubborn.
Short fiction can be a marvelous blueprint for film and revisiting Nobel Prize-winner Munro's story in this era of "catfishing" makes a lot of sense: People are no less desperate for connection than they ever have been.
Despite its seemingly canned plot, [it] commits to delivering a glimpse into that truth spiced with the joy of optimism rather than the easy placebo of certainty.
Wiig's underplaying, a repressed otherworldly Sissy Spacek sort of thing, has its moments of humor, but this proud, simple woman is never for an instant comic.