Doug Dillaman’s review published on Letterboxd :
Does the book recognise that it's about toxic narcissism? Because the movie only seems to dimly for most of its running time, briefly acknowledging it before stepping away at the end. The first hour is almost perversely maddening - I think Broadbent spends something like fifteen minutes not opening envelopes, because that's drama, I guess? It did accrue some interest for me as Broadbent's failings rise to the surface, but I wanted a director who would really go there as far as trawling into just how septic he was - CARNAL KNOWLEDGE instead of FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL, say. (There's probably a better analogue, as this isn't really a comedy, but can't care enough to think of it.) Perhaps a second viewing would unveil hidden freight, but bloody unlikely I'll bother.