Bleeding Love

Decent performances from both McGregors can’t breathe much spirit (alcoholic or otherwise) into the film’s listless and generic screenplay.

There’s no dramatic tension, our protagonists whine a lot and they seem, at best, like two solipsistic twits driving around the desert and moaning about parenting.

We’ve followed this kind of bicker-and-heal therapeutic arc so many times now, the onus falls on all involved to spike it with truth, or at least novelty.

This unbearably cute joint selfie of a movie is gruesomely indulgent and entitled from the first; it allows Ewan McGregor little or no opportunity to show his natural wit and flair and there is oddly no real chemistry between him and his co-star.

It’s a film that’s been thought out but doesn’t reach any new conclusions&#59; that assembles some good elements, but doesn’t really consider how they all fit together.

Ewan McGregor is polished enough to establish a mood of unflagging realism, undaunted by a script that provides almost no opportunity to keep the momentum going.

Emma Westenberg’s Bleeding Love is a moving father-daughter drama that also might just be one of the scariest films I’ve ever seen.



The fater daugfhter acting team provides some emotional pull to the story.

This is clearly a very personal project for both McGregors, and that is often felt in Ewan and Clara’s tender performances opposite each other, which are naturalistic and honest in both their nerviness and initial awkwardness around one another.

You can feel the history that exists between this father and daughter pairing through the performances and the seemingly mundane conversations they have, which are evidently tip-toeing around the various elephants in the room.