This movie is so bad that you feel embarrassed for the actors as they fidget uncomfortably through film-school-quality schmaltzy writing.

The shallow, poor performances turned in by Susan Sarandon and Dustin Hoffman only prove that great acting is not a gift, it's a craft, and it takes work and a competent director to put a scene together. This movie is so carelessly acted that all you can think as you watch is, "I hope they got a good paycheck", because there's certainly no commitment to the material shown by any of the performers.

The filmmakers might have gotten away with this unctuous family underreacting (by miles) to their daughter's tragic death if they'd left it at that, but they simultaneously try to squeeze every drop of sentimentality from the situation that can be managed. The result is actually offensive. It's a movie that presumes that its characters are likable because they know how to use chopsticks and don't want God mentioned at the funeral. They're cosmopolitan, and that trumps, it seems, even death.