Mother and Child

The first 10 minutes may just be one of the most powerful-yet-economical beginnings to a movie yet, with a scene of two teenagers making out that hurtles forward into the present. Swiftly, we know where the characters are; how they got there; how they’re shaped. Bening is in fine form with her brittle Karen whose calcified heart has entombed years of pain; Watts, meanwhile, frightens (in a good way) with her fearlessness. Her Elizabeth is strong and broken, distant and compelling. In short, she’s fully formed and convincing -- and there aren’t many film roles written this way anymore. Neither are there enough actresses with the chops to pull off such icy, yet moving, character. Washington holds her own against this formidable duo.

To be sure, critics may take offense at moments of heavy-handedness: Why, for instance, must the film’s sage be portrayed by a blind woman? (Woody Allen’s been there, done that in Crimes And Misdemeanors). And why must Elizabeth’s suitor (Samuel L. Jackson, achingly vulnerable) be inhumanly perfect? But Mother and Child is a beautiful movie, period, one that deserves to be seen by those who can handle the film's emotional intensity. Prepare for some unabashed weeping.