Viggo Mortensen writes a love letter--well, a letter, anyway--to his family and I don't know why I had to be there, as it wasn't for me... in more ways than one. If I wanted to hear senile old men insulting women, Asians, children, and homosexuals, I'd look up my distant relatives on Facebook because that way I could turn it off when I got fed up. I respect Mortensen enormously as an artist and I recognize that this was a passion project for him but sadly, it wasn't one for me.

Viggo Mortensen takes risks with a structure that is not conventional, that walks between fragments of memory, between reality and the product of a progressive dementia. In this incisive editing, it seems that the past constantly scratches the present, the scars of an unstable childhood. The father reflects a stale sense of masculinity, in the context of a retrograde America enraged at the arrival of a black president. It is an intense exercise, sometimes unbalanced but always fascinating.

A great acting showcase but its a tad overlong. Wearying at times because of the length but its good overall, with both raw and tender moments.

Wow, Willis was a piece of shit before he got dementia. If I was Eric, I would not have allowed someone so obscenely racist, sexist and homophobia in my house or near my child