Bad boy Colin Farrell as a sensitive, new-age guy? If you can make that leap of faith, then there’s something for you in A Home at the End of the World. In 1967, tragedy shapes the life of nine year old Bobby and, later, his best friend. The boys become as brothers, smoke joints and do as teenage boys are said to do. Forward a decade, Bobby moves to New York and finds gay Jonathan (Dallas Roberts) living with Clare (Robin Wright Penn). Stalled affection is rekindled in a three-way, requited romance in which the trio try to live a thoroughly modern life. But what of their feelings, man? Is Bobby bi-curious or just a boy who won’t grown up? Does it matter? Not to these neo-hippies determined to find a way to let the sunshine in. A Home at the End of the World wavers pleasingly between melodrama and lopsided comedy in examining a man’s need to make others happy. The tender story is all but squashed by Farrell, miscast and unable to find tone. He’s impeded by a script that drifts early and finally disperses under loose direction that can’t tug the film into shape. As a story that hinges on relationships, they remain steadfastly ill-defined: depending on where you are in the movie, Bobby is either hetero, homo, bi or a-sexual and this nugget is, of itself, not enough to propel the story. Yet for all its failings, there is something sweetly engaging about most of these dramatics. Above all, A Home at the End of the World is a welcome reminder in these conservative times that family is what you make it. // COLIN FRASER