Here is a syrupy Hollywood comedy about a sexless marriage in crisis, a subject for which, in this country, the two classic texts are Kingsley Amis's autobiographical novel Jake's Thing and Victoria Wood's song about being beaten on the bottom with a Woman's Weekly. Those are both very different from this film, which magics a saccharine happy ending out of thin air, and which despite the analysis theme is weirdly incurious about its characters' backstories. Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones are Kay and Arnold, empty-nesters in a non-sexual rut. Arnold, a decreasingly lovable grump, has to be bullied into going with Kay to couples-therapist Dr Bernard Feld (Steve Carell) and talking about his feelings for the first time in 30 years … or maybe ever. The therapy scenes are great, in the beginning: daringly long, drawn-out, uncomfortable sequences. But as the couple try to rekindle the bedroom flame the note of cutesy comedy kicks in and the movie gets phonier and phonier. There are no secondary revelations about Kay and Arnold them-selves, or about their grownup children, or indeed about Dr Feld himself, who is a sphinx without a secret.
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