The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry is a lighthearted, cheerfully angled morosity about a man following through for himself and his loved ones. The titular character (Jim Broadbent), along with his wife, Maureen Fry (Penelope Wilton), embarks on a walk across all of England in an attempt to save his cancer-ridden friend, Queenie Hennessy (Linda Bassett). Harold’s not accustomed to leaving home or doing anything in general; his life is spent in safe immobility and non-risk. His play-it-safe-and-still life motto reaps dire consequences on his marriage, tottery from decades of sameness. Even his home feels blank from years of inexperience; white walls and bleakly plain rooms make up what’s supposed to be a home lived and loved in. But upon hearing of his old friend’s cancer diagnosis and short life expectancy, he begins his march with little else than clothes, shoes, and a lot of faith. Aside from the numerous postcard views he finds and the characters/groups he meets and deserts, he learns of the joys he’s missed throughout life, his capabilities, and his limits in saving others. The journey evolves into an engulfing—albeit painfully on-the-nose and occasionally unnatural—voyage of letting go and forgiving yourself for moving forward. To live, you must leave behind the thoughts that cloud your judgment of loved ones and current happenings.

At first, Pilgrimage unfolds monotonously: viewers enter a relatively barren house to see Harold peeking out his window at neighbors, admiring their being outside, before having brunch with Maureen and opening Queenie’s letter. He embarks on his adventure because… a random gas station worker told him she saved her aunt from cancer by simply showing up and believing in the aunt’s survival. She smiles, and the light unsubtly brightens; Harold’s found his source of strength to be faith in himself and his friend. These moments hinder Harold’s voyage, with every significant interaction or big moment appearing in an (obvious) cheerful note—occasionally evoking the urge to facepalm. Fortunately, Broadbent and Wilton deliver half-embittered, half-wounded opposing performances; every scene feels pulled from a photography collection; and the central underlying tragedy morphs Pilgrimage into a bitter-sweet ride of self-reckoning.

Broadbent and Wilton fill their characters with regret expressed in different ways. Harold is a very unbothered, selfless man who does little to move his life forward, so the sudden change of heart fills him with unknown courage that Broadbent elegantly translates. Maureen is more selfish, concerned by the march’s effects on her marriage to Harold; she snickers, she nags, she cries because her fear of getting left behind consumes her upon Harold’s departure—which Wilton delivers in satisfactory gloomy fashion. Together, the pair’s chemistry is accurately strained and familiar all at once. But what makes Pilgrimage a sure heart-pop is the hidden but biggest subplot: Harold and Maureen’s estranged relationship with their substance-addicted son. It becomes quickly apparent that neither of these old parents have really been themselves for decades; Maureen pleads to Harold that “there’s been nothing here for 25 years,” which is also revealed to be the time it’s been since they’ve talked to their son. This entirely reframes the purpose of Harold’s journey, because he’s metaphorically attempting to show up for his son in his journey to Queenie’s care room as well. With each new face, picture-perfect view and interpersonal realization, he comes closer to facing some woes no parents should ever face—only it took he and Maureen decades to get there. Thus, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry is a quaint little flick demonstrating what it really means to forgive yourself, even in some of the most emotionally pressing circumstances.

Opens Friday, 9/20 @ Kendall Square Cinema