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Depressed single mom Adele and her son Henry offer a wounded, fearsome man a ride. As police search town for the escaped convict, the mother and son gradually learn his true story as their options become increasingly limited.
'Labor Day' is an example of why, when the world self-destructs, all that will be left is cockroaches, and romance novels. And Keith Richards. Okay, never mind that last one.
The story unfolds with an earnestness so implacable that on the rare occasions when a bit of humor sneaks into the proceedings it feels like an uninvited party guest.
So histrionically abysmal that it makes you realize how lazy and complacent most other movies are in their banal mediocrity. The atrociousness is thrilling. As I left the theater, I felt alive again.
Too often, 'Labor Day' feels like a sternly resolved, self-consciously determined break from that tradition, a filmmaker deciding "I am making a Serious Drama" and steadfastly refusing to allow even a note of levity into the proceedings.