Jay Allen Sanford 1 p.m., May 4
The Tomorrow Man
The tomorrow man (John Lithgow) lives a solitary existence in the house of yesterday, all furnishings unmodified save for a flat screen TV and a secluded, state-of-the-art man-cave-cum-fallout-shelter, built and stocked by our paranoid “prepper.” His today woman (Blythe Danner) is a pedigreed hoarder, operating in floor-to-ceiling clutter, uninclined to let go of the past. With the story set in motion, all that first-time triple-threat writer/director/cinematographer Nobel Jones need do is allow his romance to stay its course, if for no other reason than this: the disease-free love story empowers its stars, both topping sixty and in top form, to operate under the guise of unfeigned human camouflage. (Danner and Lithgow make what they do look so natural, so uncomplicated, that they’re certain to be overlooked come awards time.) It quickly recovers from a Thanksgiving dinner that works hard to nudge it uncomfortably close to cable drama. But nothing prepares one for Noble’s ignoble, means-compromising climax. Skip the sour last two minutes, lest one relish feelings of unhappily ever after. 2019.