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Three Women Wait for Death (2016)

CRUMBLIES…

Here’s a lovely snifter of a story. Two daughters and their mother wait for the death of Gramps. It’s light, properly funny and blissfully short. Too short, in fact; old Jack here wanted to spend an age more with this chirpsome, needling and warm family. You hear their voices echo down the corridors of this home someday: rubbish whispers of battling siblings and exhausted parents… Three Women Wait for Death.

I bumped into this on Amazon Prime, so off you pop as any review is going to give away too much…

Back?

Mum (Phoebe Nicholls doing nearly-dotty) battles one daughter while they wait in her Dad’s caravan – a holiday home that speaks of age, cramps and needlessly intense family gatherings. Said daughter forgot spare clothes because, well, who of the young doesn’t think oldsters’ exits are tightly scheduled? Lu Corfield is said child, Hester, prepared to complain, endure betrayal and flirt with murder. Other child turns up, late and annoying and without spare clothes: Nat Luurtsema is Rose, a writer and the writer of the film. There is bickering. there are spare Mum-dresses…

And they wait.

The family are instantly likeable: facing into the matter of fact exit of the old man in the care home and the unaffordability of the fees. They think he has money and a solicitor proves it’s hidden somewhere…but their interplay, a dash of sketch comedy, is the thing.

What I loved about this is the lightness of the lighting, the smartness and variation in the women (tense marriage; rangy careerist; mother hoveringly close to absolute freedom for the first time…ever…and all instantly there in the dialogue) buffet and barrage each other with character assassination, affection and that busy-ness of many a deathwatch. You feel the interplay of the generations, the financial dependence amidst the tragedy, but none of the weight that could crush the funnies.

So, if you are lacking in lively kids to surround your deathbed, have a gander at Three Women Wait for Death. It’s over in fifteen minutes and will gift you an airy, funny family and properly gorgeous comic performances.

Fresh. And refreshing. With chuckles.

More, please.

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