In the first, Jake Davis (Russell Crowe), a Pulitzer-winning novelist, loses his wife in a car accident. He was driving, and they were having an argument related to his years-ago infidelity, and their young daughter Katie (skillfully played by Kylie Rogers) was in the back seat. After the accident, trauma-related injuries coupled with a depressive disorder send Jake to an institution, and Katie goes to live with her Aunt Elizabeth—her mother's sister—and Uncle William (Bruce Greenwood) for seven months. Jake returns and is informed by Elizabeth and William that they'd prefer to adopt Katie, doubting he can provide for her sufficiently. As you might suspect, they have some other motivations, too.

That kicks off the rest of the action, and the film cuts between this history and thirtyish Katie, now a Ph.D. student studying psychology and working with a young girl, Lucy (Quvenzhané Wallis), who hasn't spoken since her mother's death. Katie also self-medicates by hooking up with men in bathrooms and at bars and drinking, a behavior she tells her therapist helps her “feel something.” (She’s a budding psychologist and she has emotional attachment problems, and that’s ironic, get it?) Then Katie meets Cameron (Aaron Paul), who idolizes her father and, as it turns out, is a loving and longsuffering boyfriend. Katie is scared of commitment and tries to drive him away. Will love win out?

Despite its title, “Fathers and Daughters” is only interested in one father and one daughter, and in one idea: that your childhood experiences help shape your relationships and actions in adulthood. That's not a particularly provocative idea—when John Mayer has written a song about it, you know it's over—but then, there's regrettably nothing very provocative about “Fathers and Daughters.” Each plot point plods along with utter predictability. You know as soon as Jake enters an institution that he'll have trouble keeping Katie when he gets out, just like you know as soon as you see Katie hooking up with a guy at school that the film will characterize her actions as an effort to exorcise some demon. (The only surprising thing about the movie is that William and Elizabeth aren't childless.) With each big scene, the film signals hard via swelling music and self-consciously meaningful one-liners that you're meant to feel here.

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