Motherhood

Few vanity projects can be as ill-conceived as this laughless, goggingly slow Uma Thurman vehicle about a stressed mum in Manhattan juggling domestic duties with writing what appears to be the world's worst blog. Thurman's character does appear to be a genuinely rubbish mother; or at least one making a mountain out of a molehill. Husband Anthony Edwards seems delightful, and she only has two sprogs on her plate. Not a moment rings true. A busy parent might forget to change out of their nightwear while driving a child to school, but surely such a nightie would be a baggy old T-shirt covered in cornflakes, rather than Thurman's full-length blue silk number? The heart does not swell with empathy.