Movie review: Sadness, redemption breathe life into ‘Dandelion’

“Like Dandelion Dust” is the type of sobering family drama that could have turned out sappy and cliched.

It didn’t. Which got me to thinking: Perhaps the mark of truly good filmmaking is the ability to take material that could easily have been trite and breathe a sense of life – and art – into it.

That’s certainly the case with the well-made and compelling “Dandelion,” directed with a thoughtful hand by Jon Gunn.

Based on the best-selling novel by Karen Kingsbury, it presents an adoption-related conflict between two parties that both have legitimate claims – and while it might be easier to side with one of those parties over another, there’s enough ambiguity to make an audience member get caught up in the drama of it all.

Adding to the impact is a strong visual sense, with tenderly rendered establishing shots and moody depictions of the Midwest and Florida adding to the gravity of the storyline.

When Wendy Porter (a strong Mia Sorvino, beautifully mining a vein of sadness that runs through her character) found out she was pregnant seven years earlier, her husband, Rip (an equally effective Barry Pepper), who has problems with alcoholism and violence, was on the way to prison.

She never told him about the birth of their son. When she gave the boy up for adoption, her husband didn’t sign the legal papers in prison – they were forged instead.

Meanwhile, Joey (Maxwell Perry Cotton), now 6, has grown up in a comfortable, upscale home, with his parents (an appealing Cole Hauser and a less effective Kate Levering) enjoying a happy, secure family life. Secure, that is, until the adoption case is reopened.

Because a forgery is involved, the biological father moves to reclaim his son – and sets in motion a painful series of events.

Instead of getting caught up in legal maneuvers and courtroom procedures, the narrative quickly slips by all that, focusing instead on the trauma involved in both families – and allowing the excellent acting ensemble to shine.

There’s a sadness here, buttressed by redemption, that treats the subject matter with the seriousness it deserves.