Films about self-discovery invariably end up sentimental or head towards dead familiar tropes, but whilst writer/director Phil Connell sets an age-gap schmaltz fest up, what he follows through with is altogether more intriguing and deceptively rewarding. Thomas Duplessie bursts onto the screen in an intensely watchable role, with good looks which he uses to his advantage and an emotional range entirely suited for being paired with Oscar winner Cloris Leachman (in her final role). Many of their early scenes have predictable conflicts - him out to use his grandmother, her mental and physical decline posing challenges for him he'd rather not face. Leachman is devastating, snarky one minute, confused the next, but Margaret's experience of growing dementia is anything but stereotypical. She knows Russell is stealing from her and doesn't care. They both race towards an all too believable mix of self-discovery and self-annihilation. The loss of Leachman in January gives this film much more urgency, but she, the really rather marvellous Duplessie and Connell give it unending heart. The cinematography is like the characters - a mixture of warmth and heart, Duplessie's set drag pieces are worth the price of admission alone; fuck you to being your own whipping boy indeed, but some of the supporting cast could have been fleshed out more. Russell's unsettled fling with bartender Zachary (Kawaku Adu-Poku) feels like it could have been more, but Russell's discomfort in relationships with others resonates. The narrative loses its way a bit too with Margaret once Russell leaves, but the dark edge underlining the abrupt finale is welcome - leaving us to wonder if Margaret chooses to make her own self-discovery her ending is both daringly bleak and a posthumous nod to a remarkable actor and ally to the LGBT community.