110 min | R | January 29, 2021 | Apple TV+
An ex-con returns to his Louisiana hometown and ends up caring for a neglected neighbor kid who likes dolls and dresses. The bond is genuine and the lead turn is quietly committed. The screenplay just hits every beat you can see coming from the opening reel.
Eddie Palmer comes home to small-town Louisiana after twelve years in prison. He moves in with his grandmother and takes work as a school janitor while he tries to stay clean. Next door lives Sam, a young boy abandoned by his addict mother and drawn to dolls, dresses, and a TV show about fairy princesses. The two form a bond, and the film becomes a story about a hard man learning to protect a soft kid in a town that punishes both of them for who they are. The setup is sturdy. The execution never trusts it.
Justin Timberlake plays Eddie Palmer with his volume turned all the way down. He keeps his face still and his voice low, and he lets the shame sit in his shoulders instead of his lines. It is a controlled, against-type performance that refuses easy charm. Ryder Allen plays Sam without a trace of self-consciousness, which is the whole engine of the film. Juno Temple plays Shelly, Sam’s mother, as a live wire of need and menace. Alisha Wainwright grounds the romance as teacher Maggie Hayes, and June Squibb makes grandmother Vivian’s faith feel lived-in rather than decorative.
Fisher Stevens directs from a script by Cheryl Guerriero, and the direction stays as careful as the lead performance. The cinematography leans on warm, low-key light and tight interiors that keep the world small and watchful. That restraint is the problem as much as the virtue. Guerriero’s script hits every beat the genre demands, from the parole-officer threat to the custody crisis to the climactic courtroom turn. Stevens stages these moments cleanly and never once surprises you with where they land.
The film knows exactly what it wants to say about masculinity, tolerance, and second chances, and it says it without complication. Every obstacle exists to be overcome on schedule. Every bigot is a signpost. The performances are better than the material, and Timberlake and Allen build something real inside a structure that keeps telling them what to feel. The result is a competent, sincere drama that mistakes good intentions for depth.