Most of us have faced it, unfortunately – the impossible mission of visiting a loved one in the hospital for what might be the last time, trying to say everything that feels unsayable. Goodbye June, the 2025 drama marking Kate Winslet’s directorial debut, takes that scenario as its heart: gathering a fractured family around a dying matriarch and attempting to stitch together decades of tension. Written by her son, Joe Anders, the story is loosely inspired by the death of his grandmother, Winslet’s mother, from cancer in 2017. The intention is deeply personal and kind, the execution, sadly, is far more saccharine than stirring.
The film opens in a traditional London home blanketed by winter frost, immediately setting a quiet, intimate tone. Helen Mirren’s June, in her only upright scene, moves through the kitchen with difficulty, her labored breathing hinting at the severity of her illness. Her husband, Bernie (Timothy Spall), preps in the bathroom, his swollen ankles and feet telling us he’s been dealing with a lifelong injury. Their son Connor, played by Johnny Flynn, lies half-awake in his bedroom, unaware that soon he will be thrust into adult responsibility as he responds to June’s collapse. Snow falls outside as Connor calls for an ambulance, and we follow the family into the hospital – where the emotional gravity of June’s condition is laid bare in a high-angle, Dutch-tilt shot that pierces the heart immediately: June is admiring the last snow she will ever see in her lifetime.
From here, the film follows the family as they navigate June’s final days. Connor immediately reaches out to his three elder sisters: Molly (AAdrea Riseborough), a hippie mom juggling veganism, mortgages, and his three kids’ and goofy-clumsy husband’s chaotic energies; Julia (Kate Winslet herself), the seemingly perfect, overworked (semi-)single mother balancing a career and her siblings’ finances; and Helen, a free-spirited meditation guru returning from Germany. The film’s early sequences establish the fractured family dynamic, yet the writing rarely allows these tensions to breathe. Conflicts surface only to be resolved almost instantly, often without dialogue, replaced by songs, sudden laughter, a sharp cut or symbolic gestures that feel more like shorthand than storytelling.
Winslet’s direction shows her care for the material. Shooting between February and April 2025 under tight location constraints – primarily, hospital rooms and corridors – and working with child actors, she demonstrates patience, kindness, and actor-friendly leadership. Cinematographer Alwin H. Küchler navigates these limitations admirably, turning confined-dull spaces into visually coherent, surprisingly tender frames. Makeup is handled with precision, particularly on Mirren, whose portrayal of a cancer patient is unflinching and courageous. She reportedly took on the role precisely because of her respect for Winslet and the script’s emotional core, stepping outside her usual choices – normally, she will not portray patients suffering from cancer or dementia.
Timothy Spall and Mirren bring their usual gravitas, yet the script rarely gives them room to showcase depth. Johnny Flynn’s Connor is quietly compelling, though his storylines often feel incidental, lost in the barrage of familial chaos that the screenplay imposes. The ensemble’s commitment is undeniable, yet it can’t fully compensate for the uneven material.
And here’s the rub: the screenplay. Joe Anders, at 19, started to write a story full of personal resonance, but the execution is uneven, full of clichés and sentimental leaps that strain credulity. Conflicts resolve too neatly, humor (or any other “spice”) feels sporadically inserted, and emotional beats are overwritten – think a Snickers vending machine magically smoothing tensions. Climax moments – like the confrontation between Molly and June in the corridor or Connor and Bernie in the pub – lack dramatic weight, feeling flat or shoehorned. The script’s overreach is unfortunate because the story’s foundation, grappling with a parent’s terminal illness, is universally relatable and moving. Stories that talk about the inevitability of death, and how we can celebrate the circle of life with kindness and love, would be especially important in our Western hemisphere.
Editing, too, fails to rescue the narrative. Lucia Zucchetti’s work struggles with continuity, pacing, and cohesion. While some sequences, such as montages showing family visits across days, are done with precision and just enough sweetness, others collapse, leaving the audience with a patchwork rather than a flowing, immersive experience. Yet, despite its flaws, Goodbye June is not without merit. Winslet’s debut direction hints at a unique sensibility, a desire to hold space for actors and crew to experiment.
Ultimately, Goodbye June is a film of contrasts: beautiful actors undercut by a script that is too sentimental and fragmented; a director with evident vision and the challenges of her first feature; and a family story meant to confront grief that too often softens its edges into forced resolution. In the hands of a more experienced screenwriter, this project could have been a profound meditation on love, loss, and familial bonds. As it stands, it’s a well-intentioned but uneven exercise, a reminder that even the best intentions require rigorous craft to resonate fully on screen.
The film is now available on Netflix.
~ by Dora Endre ~
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