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We emerge from Keaton's exertions in The Good Mother in the same condition, but for less inspiring reasons. She works herself into a state of perpetual breathlessness trying to demonstrate that her Anna is worthy of the film's title. But she cannot quite withstand the contempt caused by the central carelessness of the story. She is introduced as a woman raised in a repressed family and recently escaped from a sexually frigid marriage. Set free erotically by -- who else? -- a respectably bohemian sculptor (Liam Neeson), she is perhaps too proud of and too grateful for the achievement. One night her daughter (Asia Vieira), scared by a bad dream, invades their bed and is permitted to cuddle in, after which the adults resume their lovemaking. Later, the child enters the bathroom when the artist is showering, and he indulges her curiosity by permitting her to touch his penis. She, of course, tells her father, and he sues to regain custody. Good mother and good lover defend themselves by evoking the doctrine that openness is preferable to furtiveness if children are to grow up with a healthy attitude toward sex.
Yeah, sure. But there are moments when a lady should know enough to pull the covers up, times when a gentleman knows he must grab for a towel -- despite their liberal beliefs. Discretion too is part of good sex -- not to mention good parenting. This is not to say this film is tastelessly made, but to suggest that it is hard to charm either a court -- or an audience -- into understanding, or forgiving, true simpiness.