Very much a melodrama of the 80s, following the example of Kramer vs. Kramer by balancing emotional goo with bleached, sterile visuals. The film looks austere and serious, rather as if it had been shot inside a Frigidaire, and the oppressiveness of the images tends to strangle laughter, even at the most absurd excesses of Alvin Sargent’s script. The material, from Judith Guest’s novel, mixes family drama with pop-psychological insights, a marriage of Eugene O’Neill and Wayne Dyer. As the tortured son, Tim Hutton steals shamelessly from Tony Perkins’s repertoire of twitches and hesitations; if I were Perkins, I would have sued. Mary Tyler Moore shows her wrinkles and nothing else as the mother; Donald Sutherland, as dad, is pink and babyish. Robert Redford directed, with a sure knowledge of what Oscar likes (1980).