Ducking Freadful! Only got halfway before i turned off in agony at all the dialogue and that bloody cello thingy droning in and out at inopportune moments, and what's-his-name saying "Man" every three sentences and smoking really badly rolled joints, and his girlfriend was hot though, although mental (which is just my type); i knew there was a problem when i sympathised more with Mat Broderick than Linney.
Sentimental, saccharine, shallow, syrupy, saggy, shit. I could see the end in the beginning. This film is the wealthy cousin of a made-for-tv movie on the Hallmark channel. Jesus, even the title is crap. This killed Bach's cello suite for me. Now THAT'S an achievement.