It was the pictures that got small
It does melancholy as well as any film, and there are some moments of genuine uplift (that first kitchen laughing fit is so real you feel like a voyeur). But none of it’s sustained, mostly because we keep flashing forward to the petty travails of Streep’s annoying adult kids. What an awful framing device.
You can’t look away from Eastwood and Streep when they’re onscreen together. Unfortunately that’s only about 50% of this movie.