A Home At The End Of The World Review

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After a series of deaths in the deaths in his family, Bobby (Farrell) latches onto his gay best friend and his bohemian roommate, and they form a kind of family.


Infamous for being the film that left Colin Farrell’s bits on the cutting room floor, Michael Mayer’s debut might otherwise have slipped by unnoticed. Based on the novel by Michael Cunningham, who also scripts, it’s the story of Bobby (Farrell), whose sexual confusion and multiple family deaths at an early age cause him to latch on to his gay best friend (Roberts) and his bohemian roommate (Wright Penn).

The script explores the idea of what constitutes a modern family well and the cast are all impressive — particularly Wright Penn who draws sympathy for her potentially hateful hippy — but the narrative is often smothered by theatrical monologues which offer more to the performer than the viewer. Kudos, though, to Farrell for his continued refusal to be typecast.

A nice idea is, in broad terms, well handled, but the problems are in the presentation, and even the massively talented actors at work here can't overcome the theatricality of the script.