Mary Kay Place in Diane (IFC Films)

In a small town in Massachusetts, Diane (Mary Kay Place), a 70ish-year-old widow, invests most of her time taking care of people. She drives from one friend to another, seemingly always in the right place when someone needs her help, even when it isn’t ask for, like a neighbor who can make good use of a casserole. At other times, she assists in a soup kitchen that feeds the homeless. Though she helps everybody, her main focus is on two of her own: cousin Donna (Deirdre O’Connell), who is dying of cervical cancer, and her son, Brian (Jake Lacy), a former drug addict always in danger of relapsing.

Diane is the first fictional film written and directed by Kent Jones, programmer at the New York Festival and co-director of Hitchcock/Truffaut. He takes a naturalistic approach distinguished by a timely and economic narrative. In less than 10 minutes, a few vignettes are enough to depict an insightful character study that ignites important questions that perhaps can’t be answered. (What does it mean to lead a life dedicated to selfless service? Is pure goodness a form of atonement?) The scenes are purposefully reiterative as they follow Diane’s daily routine. However, the repetition reveals new layers that add complexity about this lonely soul who lives to serve, though living with regret. She has lot of friends and old acquaintances who respect and show affection for her, but she looks unhappy and disappointed when she’s alone with her thoughts.

At night, Diane writes poetic confessions in a diary as she remembers bittersweet times. Past secrets and old truths still interfere with her relationships with her cousin and son. Memories keep her awake, and there is a moment of weakness that ends with embarrassment when Diane drinks alone in a bar and gets drunk and has to be rescued by her closest friends.

Mary Kay Place carries the film on her shoulders with an exceptional performance that astounds without histrionic noise or melodramatic turnarounds (you can say the same about the movie itself). The rest of the cast is made up with great actresses: Estelle Parsons, Phyllis Sommerville, and Andrea Martin. However, the scenes between Diane and Brian best typify the special nature of this intimate drama. When Brian becomes born again, his relationship with his mother doesn’t reflect a better mutual understanding. At a service at Brian’s church, Diane is perplexed and alienated by its expressions of faith, almost like she understands her son less than when he was an addict. In sharp instants like this, Jones transforms the trivial into something sublime.

Maybe this is the perfect time for a film like Diane. It’s something more than an exception to recent movies about older women. (It’s curious that it has been released in the same season as Gloria Bell and Greta.) The concern and depth of Jones as a storyteller shares the same introspective spirit that defines a Paul Schrader film (relevant to note is that Martin Scorsese serves as executive producer). This modest and measured movie is never overwhelmed by its ambitions. Diane is a calculated mundane movie with a quiet tenderness about the everyday life of ordinary people. Viewers can see their grandparents, parents or themselves reflected on screen.