‘Goodbye June’ review: Helen Mirren and impressive cast ground Kate Winslet’s sentimental debut

Dir: Kate Winslet. UK. 2025. 114mins

This story of a fractured family coming together to say farewell to their dying matriarch at Christmas is as emotionally heavy-handed as it sounds, a heady mix of guilt, grief and resentment deliberately designed to whip its audience into a sentimental stew. Yet, underneath it all, superb performances from a stellar, experienced cast – confidently shepherded by debut director/star Kate Winslet – hit authentic, relatable notes, and save the film from sinking entirely into melodrama

Winslet’s connection to this story comes through in her directorial decisions

The presence of Winslet behind the camera for the first time will undoubtedly pique interest, as will the cast she has attracted; she takes a central role alongside Helen Mirren, Andrea Riseborough, Toni Collette, Timothy Spall and Johnny Flynn. That the screenplay is by Winslet’s son, Joe Anders, may also draw intrigued audiences when the film opens for limited runs in the UK and US on December 12, before streaming globally on Netflix from December 24. While it could be described as a Christmas film, its downbeat subject matter may deter some festive viewers looking for more feelgood cheer.

Winslet plays Julia, a stressed workaholic mum of three whose husband works abroad. She is already buckling under the weight of her myriad responsibilities before she discovers her mother June (Mirren) has been hospitalised due to the worsening of the cancer she has been battling for three years. It is two weeks before Christmas and, with the prognosis looking bleak, June’s family gather around her hospital bed, determined to bring the festivities to her and helped by kindly nurse Angel (a charming Fisayo Akinade).

That is easier said than done, as this family’s dynamics are anything but harmonious. Julia and her younger sister Molly (Riseborough) have been at loggerheads for years; animosity is now running so high that they can’t be in the same room together. Other sister Helen (Collette) – a holistic dance therapist draped in scarves and burning incense at every opportunity – hotfoots it from her home in Germany with a surprise of her own. Son Connor (Flynn), the youngest sibling who still lives at home, struggles with the reality of losing his beloved mum. And June’s husband Bernie (Spall) copes the only way he knows how – by refusing to acknowledge what’s happening and going to the pub.

First-time screenwriter Anders has based the film on the death of his own grandmother, Winslet’s mother, when he was 13 but, despite the obvious personal impact of that event, the narrative as written can feel too broad to really pack a punch. While there are some lighter moments, in which Anders pulls some gentle, somewhat-obvious comedy from this chaotic family, the situation is largely played for maximum pathos.

Characters, too, seem lightly drawn, particularly the women: the overwhelmed working mother feeding her kids pre-packed sandwiches; the harried stay-at-home parent who only eats organic food; the hippy alternative healer putting her faith in a higher power. And while both Flynn and Spall are fine actors, they are left with nothing much to do than trail in their wake.

Yet there’s something genuine and heartfelt to be found in the performances, and in Winslet’s direction of her excellent cast. Despite being confined largely to a hospital bed, Mirren is characteristically masterful as June, embodying the stoicism and vulnerability of a woman who has accepted her fate but is not yet ready for it. Riseborough is fantastic as firebrand youngest sister Molly, channelling the recognizable anger and fear that comes with such a terminal diagnosis. Her later scenes with Winslet, in which the siblings acknowledge a lifetime of love and rivalry, are standout moments of quiet contemplation amidst the mawkish maelstrom.

Doing impressive double duty, Winslet is compelling on-screen as locked-up-tight superwoman Julia, afraid to show a chink of weakness in case her whole carefully-structured life comes tumbling down. Yet her real connection to this story comes through in her savvy directorial decisions, from the well-designed hospital room – which moves from clinical anonymity to cosy personal space over the course of the film – to the careful use of close-ups and general creative restraint. Long, locked-off takes and hidden microphones enabled the actors to film pivotal scenes without the intrusion of equipment or crew; these fight their way through the heavy-handed sentimentality to really hit home.