Four Good Days

In a quiet Midwestern town where the rhythms of daily life mask deeper, unspoken wounds, a woman returns home after years of absence, seeking a chance to reclaim what she has lost. Molly arrives at the doorstep of her childhood house, carrying the weight of a decade‑long battle with heroin and the fragile hope of a new beginning. Her mother, Deb, lives a carefully ordered existence, shaped by her own hidden scars, and guards the household with a mix of fierce protectiveness and quiet resignation.

The film settles into a contemplative, almost lyrical tone, letting the subtle sounds of the house—creaking floorboards, the hum of a refrigerator, the muffled laughter from the neighborhood—echo the inner turbulence of its characters. Light filters through lace curtains, casting soft patterns that mirror the tentative optimism and lingering doubt that linger in every conversation. The cinematography favors close, intimate frames, inviting the audience to feel the breath of the characters as they navigate the thin line between love and enabling.

At the core of the story is the strained, complex bond between mother and daughter. Molly is raw and desperate, her honesty a double‑edged sword that both exposes her vulnerabilities and forces Deb to confront the painful chapters of her own past. Their interactions unfold with a fragile tenderness, each exchange a dance of unfinished apologies and tentative trust. Surrounding them are quietly supportive figures—a steady husband, an empathetic friend—who add layers of quiet strength without stealing focus from the central relationship.

As the days stretch forward, the house becomes a crucible where long‑held resentments surface, and the promise of redemption hangs in the air like a fragile breath. The audience is left to wonder whether the fragile bridge they are building can hold the weight of their histories, or if the shadows of addiction and trauma will prove too heavy to bear.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 00:49