One of contemporary cinema’s most graceful, taken-for-granted actors, Robin Wright, too long in the shadow of her ex-husband, would seemingly have finally found the perfect leading role in Rebecca Miller’s The Private Lives of Pippa Lee, in which she plays a graceful, taken-for-granted wife and mother. Onscreen, Wright imbues her roles with effortless compassion, which is always just barely peeking out from layers of weariness and insecurity. Her lack of actorly grandstanding has often relegated her to smaller roles, but rather than languish in supporting parts, she thrives, from her one-scene, one-shot wonder in Rodrigo Garcia’s Nine Lives, in which, pregnant and dissatisfied, she comes upon an old flame in a supermarket and runs through a lifetime emotions with the merest flickers in her eyes, to the seemingly thankless estranged-wife role in Shyamalan’s Unbreakable, which in a few scenes she turns into a symphony of regret and doubt. Unfortunately with Pippa Lee this most deserving of actresses has found a role in a film that doesn’t deserve her. Click here to read the rest of Michael Koresky’s review of The Private Lives of Pippa Lee.