Justin Chang

Tawain Barrett is quietly heartbreaking as Pansy's son, Moses, who isolates himself and spends his time either playing video games or going on long neighborhood walks. Pansy's husband, Kirtley, is harder to parse. He's played by the terrific David Weber, with a passivity that's both sympathetic and infuriating.

Tawain Barrett is quietly heartbreaking as Pansy's son, Moses, who isolates himself and spends his time either playing video games or going on long neighborhood walks. Pansy's husband, Kirtley, is harder to parse. He's played by the terrific David Weber, with a passivity that's both sympathetic and infuriating.

The most significant supporting character is Pansy's younger sister, Chantel, played by the luminous Michelle Austin, another Secrets and Lies alum. Chantel could scarcely be more different from her sister. She's a joyous, contented woman with two adult daughters of her own, and she does everything she can to break through to Pansy.

The most significant supporting character is Pansy's younger sister, Chantel, played by the luminous Michelle Austin, another Secrets and Lies alum. Chantel could scarcely be more different from her sister. She's a joyous, contented woman with two adult daughters of her own, and she does everything she can to break through to Pansy.

The most significant supporting character is Pansy's younger sister, Chantel, played by the luminous Michelle Austin, another Secrets and Lies alum. Chantel could scarcely be more different from her sister. She's a joyous, contented woman with two adult daughters of her own, and she does everything she can to break through to Pansy.

In the movie's most affecting scene, Chantel drags her sister to a cemetery to pay their respects to their mother, whose sudden death five years ago, we sense, is at the core of Pansy's unhappiness. At the same time, Lee doesn't fill in every blank. He's too honest a filmmaker to offer up easy explanations for why people feel the way they feel.

In the movie's most affecting scene, Chantel drags her sister to a cemetery to pay their respects to their mother, whose sudden death five years ago, we sense, is at the core of Pansy's unhappiness. At the same time, Lee doesn't fill in every blank. He's too honest a filmmaker to offer up easy explanations for why people feel the way they feel.

In the movie's most affecting scene, Chantel drags her sister to a cemetery to pay their respects to their mother, whose sudden death five years ago, we sense, is at the core of Pansy's unhappiness. At the same time, Lee doesn't fill in every blank. He's too honest a filmmaker to offer up easy explanations for why people feel the way they feel.

His attitude toward Pansy, and toward all the prickly, outspoken, altogether marvelous characters he's given us, is best expressed in that graveside scene, when Chantel wraps her sister in a tight hug and tells her, with equal parts exasperation and affection... I don't understand you, but I love you.

His attitude toward Pansy, and toward all the prickly, outspoken, altogether marvelous characters he's given us, is best expressed in that graveside scene, when Chantel wraps her sister in a tight hug and tells her, with equal parts exasperation and affection... I don't understand you, but I love you.

His attitude toward Pansy, and toward all the prickly, outspoken, altogether marvelous characters he's given us, is best expressed in that graveside scene, when Chantel wraps her sister in a tight hug and tells her, with equal parts exasperation and affection... I don't understand you, but I love you.

In the many beautifully observed working-class dramedies he's made over the past five decades, the British writer and director, Mike Lee, has returned again and again to one simple yet endlessly resonant question. Why are some people happy while others are not? Why does Nicola, the sullen 20-something in Lee's 1990 film, Life is Sweet, seem incapable of even a moment's peace or pleasure?

In the many beautifully observed working-class dramedies he's made over the past five decades, the British writer and director, Mike Lee, has returned again and again to one simple yet endlessly resonant question. Why are some people happy while others are not? Why does Nicola, the sullen 20-something in Lee's 1990 film, Life is Sweet, seem incapable of even a moment's peace or pleasure?

In the many beautifully observed working-class dramedies he's made over the past five decades, the British writer and director, Mike Lee, has returned again and again to one simple yet endlessly resonant question. Why are some people happy while others are not? Why does Nicola, the sullen 20-something in Lee's 1990 film, Life is Sweet, seem incapable of even a moment's peace or pleasure?

By contrast, how does Poppy, the upbeat heroine of Lee's 2008 comedy, Happy Go Lucky, manage to greet every misfortune with a smile? Lee's new movie, Hard Truths, could have been titled Unhappy Go Lucky. It follows a middle-aged North London misanthrope named Pansy, who's played in the single greatest performance I've seen this year by Marianne Jean-Baptiste.

By contrast, how does Poppy, the upbeat heroine of Lee's 2008 comedy, Happy Go Lucky, manage to greet every misfortune with a smile? Lee's new movie, Hard Truths, could have been titled Unhappy Go Lucky. It follows a middle-aged North London misanthrope named Pansy, who's played in the single greatest performance I've seen this year by Marianne Jean-Baptiste.

By contrast, how does Poppy, the upbeat heroine of Lee's 2008 comedy, Happy Go Lucky, manage to greet every misfortune with a smile? Lee's new movie, Hard Truths, could have been titled Unhappy Go Lucky. It follows a middle-aged North London misanthrope named Pansy, who's played in the single greatest performance I've seen this year by Marianne Jean-Baptiste.

You might know Jean-Baptiste from Lee's wonderful 1996 film, Secrets and Lies, in which she played a shy, unassuming London optometrist seeking out her birth mother. But there's nothing unassuming about Pansy, who leads a life of seething, unrelenting misery. She spends most of her time indoors, barking orders and insults at her solemn husband, Kirtley, and their unemployed 22-year-old son, Moses.

You might know Jean-Baptiste from Lee's wonderful 1996 film, Secrets and Lies, in which she played a shy, unassuming London optometrist seeking out her birth mother. But there's nothing unassuming about Pansy, who leads a life of seething, unrelenting misery. She spends most of her time indoors, barking orders and insults at her solemn husband, Kirtley, and their unemployed 22-year-old son, Moses.

You might know Jean-Baptiste from Lee's wonderful 1996 film, Secrets and Lies, in which she played a shy, unassuming London optometrist seeking out her birth mother. But there's nothing unassuming about Pansy, who leads a life of seething, unrelenting misery. She spends most of her time indoors, barking orders and insults at her solemn husband, Kirtley, and their unemployed 22-year-old son, Moses.