Diane fills her days helping others and desperately attempting to bond with her drug-addicted son. As these pieces of her existence begin to fade, she finds herself confronting memories she'd sooner forget than face.
It's a pinhole portrait of life on Earth; a non-judgmental story about trying to reconcile meaning with meaningless before the well runs dry and it rains again.
Quiet and profound, Kent Jones' feature debut Diane tells the small-scale and moving story of a woman navigating through her tiny community of friends and family in rural Massachusetts.
The past hangs over "Diane" not just as a burden or nostalgia (though it can be that too), but as an enthralling and entangling reminder of life's mystery.
Kent Jones conditions us to expect that Diane will follow its protagonist to her death, with little overt plot to speak off, in a quiet refutation of the three-act contrivances of most cinema.
Mary Kay Place is marvelous in the leading role, and her screen presence is so arm and comforting, we think we know her. Jones uses that familiarity, brilliantly.
