Matthew Christman’s review published on Letterboxd:
"Just look at the parking lot, Larry."
More and more, I think that the real tragedy of this movie isn't poor Larry's fate, but the fate of his kids. All throughout Larry's painful search for meaning, the constant refrain is the aggressive banality and emotional blankness of his kids. There's a story here about the transition of Larry's intellectual and spiritual struggle to the arid mental landscape of his children. When life descends on them with sharpened teeth, they won't even be equipped to ask the questions Larry does. But it doesn't actually matter if they do, does it?