Piggybacking on the recent success of films skewing towards retirees, Unfinished Song is an unabashed play towards the tissue box. The tear-jerking gimmicks are all there; a bout of cancer, strained familial relationships, death in the family and heartfelt serenades; but Terence Stamp doesn’t allow weepy schmaltz to drag his character down the maudlin road and drown in a glittery polish. Rather, Stamp gives it everything he’s got and puts in one of the finer performances of his career. The pity is that his standout performance is surrounded by a film that just isn’t very good.

Grump to the bitter end, Stamp’s unwaveringly dismal Arthur leads one hell of a sheltered life. The last vestige of humanity left in Arthur is his relationship with his wife Marion (Vanessa Redgrave). Although Arthur never comes outright and declares his love for his wife, his undying devotion is clear in the little things. The way he forces her to bed every night or whenever he over-protectively throws her friends out when she’s not feeling well are indicative of his overbearing but deeply loving nature. He’s not particularly well versed at making a good impression, or being anything short of an ass at that, but Redgrave’s unfaltering love for him never budges. She sees him for the man he is ten-levels deep; the wee-onion at the center of the tear-inducing skins. Her dedication to him amidst his snooty humbug mannerisms is as improbable as it is unconditional but Redgrave sells the performance amply.

When Marion’s cancer returns, she’s told to turn to the chips and ice cream treatment. Essentially, she hasn’t got long to live, so her medicine will be to enjoy life, and all the chips and ice cream she wants, while she can. Their grown son James (Christopher Eccleston) is silently devastated by the news but Arthur is unwilling to lend the smallest gesture of comfort to him. Their strained father-son relationship goes on to become more emotional fodder for a redemptive arc to play out in the third act but this play for dramatics is hardly anything novel. It’s yet another facet of the film that’s been done before and just another slice of the melodrama pie that Williams is so eagerly serving up.

While Arthur sees his wife’s imminent demise as a prescription for her to stay home in bed, Marion doesn’t want to waste a second of the fleeting remains of her life. Against Arthur’s wishes, she returns to her glee club to do what she loves best: belt out some tunes amongst a host of pensioners ticking off the dates on their own longevity calendars.

Leading this troop of balded-headed men and gossiping old birds is the youth, sweet and beautiful Elizabeth, an impractically endearing do-gooder who can’t seem to find a place amongst people her own age. Even though Elizabeth bookends the tale with some unnecessary voice-over narration, this is hardly her story. Gemma Arterton does the limited capacity of the role justice but she is a throwaway hotplate; just there to help the others catalyze but otherwise flat in her own character arc.

When we get to the actual glee club that inspires so much joy in Marion’s life, it seems like we’ve walked onto a Glee set 60 years in the future. The elder ensemble sing-a-longs are hokey and their intentionally uncouth but soulful nature make them grating to say the least. But when the group quiets down and Marion steps forward, the tone changes to a more reflective and somber state for Redgrave to flex her chops. Even in the throes of her looming death, Marion’s musical solo glimmers with life.

When Marion does croak (which I won’t consider a spoiler since it’s featured in the trailer and synopsis), it fractures the already limping relationship Arthur holds with his son and Arthur becomes a man left afloat in his own misery. Seeking out an unlikely friendship with Elizabeth, Arthur starts down the rocky road to redemption in the community center he once mimicked so openly. It seems he has quite a little singing voice boxed inside his grumbling Scrooge-like mouth and he seems to find joy in finally letting it loose. Overcoming his caustic nature is more a challenge than he thought as the smoke-slicked grim is so thick on Arthur’s persona that it’s hardened like a stone.

When the clandestine Arthur’s finally emerges from his shell and join the AARP gleefulites, it’s in an effort to pay tribute to his deceased wife and to find a sense of enjoyment that has always escaped him. While Redgrave’s performance was a burbling brook of tears, the real treat is contained within the stoney depths of Stamp which elicits tears by the buckets. When he finally does open up, his act is spellbinding. Stamp’s solo act is deeply personal and ultimately touching. Fearlessly, Arthur’s warbling tenor captures the audience on and off screen. It’s a soul-searching moment that reveals his true colors while extending a symbolic olive branch to his estranged son and however cliché , Stamp owns it.

The overall impression of been-there-done-that handicaps Stamp’s otherwise illustrious performance but it does allow Unfinished Song to eek by as a passable addition to the over-50 genre. One can’t help but regret the final result though. Had Williams axed the cutesy gags and allowed Stamp’s grim complexity to shape the tone of the film, this would have been much deeper than the gushing mush holding a great performance executed here. But however simple-minded and cutesy the glee-filled formula is, Stamp’s powerful and complicated performance drags Unfinished Song out of the kiddy pool and into the freeing depths of character study.

C+