What happens to an ordinary, reasonably successful, reasonably attractive and reasonably happy 30-something male when his wife inexplicably kills herself?

Philip Seymour Hoffman's portrayal of Wilson, a man in such a position, will convince you that he doesn't just grieve, get some therapy and get on with life.

Instead he starts sniffing petrol, regressing to childhood (with an obsession for toy planes) and generally not coping with work or friends. His relationship with his mother-in-law, Bates, suffers the most.

Wilson's downfall starts with a letter left to him by his deceased wife, Liza, which he refuses to open.

His life is turned upside-down yet he will not face reality and, instead, immerses himself in a chemically induced stupor and a childlike world of no responsibilities.

Hoffman's performance is mesmerising and salvages an otherwise unmemorable film.

With a screenplay written by his brother Gordy, he takes every word and draws the audience into his miserable life with incredible sensitivity.

The dark, comic undertones provide the most credible moments but will plunge the audience further into a cynical mindset where life feels like a depressing place to be.

This is a character study (directed by ex-Chicago Hope actor Louiso) about the transition from normality to grief to a completely new way of living.

The relationship between grieving husband and grieving mother is particularly moving, but even that intensity can't conjure up enough interest to make this more than an inoffensive way to pass a couple of hours.

Natalie Stone