Six Weeks

Charlotte Dreyfus, a wealthy cosmetics tycoon, forms a tender bond with her 12-year-old daughter, Nicole Dreyfus (Nicky), who is fighting leukemia and has chosen to stop further treatments because of their harsh side effects. The pair encounters Patrick Dalton, a California politician who chairs a little-known campaign and who is initially surprised by the generous donation that accompanies their approach. Yet Dalton is moved enough to invite Nicky to help at the campaign office after she hints that she’s living with a terminal illness, a detail that softens his reserve and pulls him into their orbit.

What begins as a practical arrangement soon deepens into something quieter and more complicated. The trio—Dalton, Charlotte, and Nicole—spends a short, fragile period together, and their shared moments bring unexpected tenderness. Nicole, who has a natural grace and a quiet determination, becomes a kind of bridge between Dalton and Charlotte, and as they watch her practice ballet, the rhythm of their days tightens into something warmer than professional obligation. Dalton, who has his own guarded past and secrets, finds himself opening up to them, and the emotional walls around his life begin to crumble.

As the relationships heat and soften, Charlotte’s presence stirs tension at home. Dalton’s wife senses the growing attachment, and she pushes back against the idea of sharing him with a second family, even as Nicky becomes more than just a ward of the campaign. Nicky herself grows fiercely attached to Dalton, hoping for a father figure and perhaps more, while keeping that hope quietly guarded. In turn, Dalton and Charlotte acknowledge their mutual attraction during a quiet dinner, but they decide to resist letting things go further out of consideration for his family.

To escape the strain of Los Angeles, Charlotte brings Nicky to New York City for a holiday break, a trip framed as a way to give the little girl the joy of a big city while also creating distance from a relationship that seems both dangerous and deeply human. In the bustling streets and glittering venues of New York, Nicky’s list of lifelong desires expands again, and she confesses a longing to dance with a major ballet troupe—an ambition that has suffered under the demands of campaigning and illness.

Dalton uses his political influence to open a door for her. He arranges a chance to audition at the New York Metropolitan Ballet, where the skeptical director soon recognizes Nicky’s potential and mobilizes a rapid, rigorous training path for a full-dress rehearsal. What follows is a dramatic, dream-like night of possibility: treating the moment as opening night, Dalton and Charlotte accompany Nicky to Lincoln Center, where the rehearsal hall becomes a stage in its own right. When the moment arrives, Nicky slips into position as an understudy for the iconic ballet, the Nutcracker sequence at its heart.

In a luminous moment of triumph, Nicky delivers a powerful performance in front of a crowded rehearsal audience, crossing off another item from her cherished list and reminding everyone how fragile and radiant life can be. On their way back to the hotel, the joy is tempered by fatigue and pain; Nicky shares with Dalton that she has never ridden the NYC Subway before, and the city’s hum seems to echo around them. The ride is brief, sweet, and suddenly heavy with fate.

Tragically, just after the high of this dance-filled moment, Nicky collapses on the way to the hospital, a cruel twist of fate from complications of leukemia. Dalton and Charlotte hurry her to medical care, but she dies en route, leaving them with a silence that feels larger than grief. The film closes on a quieter note: Dalton escorts Charlotte to the airport as she contemplates a return to a family vacation in France, and, after a moment of hesitation, she presses on with her path alone. The epilogue reveals a final, bittersweet truth—the campaign did succeed, and Dalton writes to Charlotte with a reminder that politics, love, and life go on, ending with a simple, resonant line:

don’t forget to “write your Congressman”.

This is a story told with warmth and restraint, a meditation on how love can bloom in unlikely corners, how ambition can intersect with care, and how the urgency of a young life can recalibrate the values of adults who thought they had everything neatly mapped out. The film balances tender humor with aching vulnerability, offering a portrait of two grown figures learning to share responsibility, hope, and something akin to family—with a girl who teaches them that every moment can be a leap of faith.

Last Updated: October 09, 2025 at 14:28