At Home in Mitford (2017)
(On TV, March 2021) How much do I like Andie MacDowell? Apparently well enough to look forward to stereotypical Hallmark TV romantic comedy At Home in Mitford, the kind in which a successful career professional comes back to her childhood small town and goes through the whole romantic-triangle experience. (But not too much lest moral complexity intrude.) The narrative is familiar—but, as usual, the fun is in the nuts and bolts: MacDowell (magnificent in her late fifties) plays a divorced children’s book writer who goes back to a small town to find inspiration and sell her uncle’s house. Of course, romance walks in under the guise of the local episcopalian priest, who inspires her again, takes care of a boy left without family, is a friend to dogs and in all aspects outshines the real estate agent who would otherwise be the other romantic suitor. The small-town atmosphere of this kind of film is portrayed with enough unrealistic nostalgia to be charming, and no serious problems show up on the way to the ending. It’s interesting that the film plays both of its leads (she in her late fifties, he in his late forties) as at least 10–20 years younger — they have concerns and past histories more typical of late-thirtysomething folks rather than the more interesting romance that people their age would otherwise have. But that’s part of the strong fantasy of those kinds of films — perhaps the only surprise is that it doesn’t take place at Christmas. Is At Home in Mitford a good film? No! Absolutely not! It’s terrible! But it’s comforting, unchallenging and deliberately as innocuous as possible. I am somewhat amused that the most vicious IMDB reviews are from readers of the novel on which the film is based — apparently, it’s got it all wrong.