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Where musicals are concerned with love and not sex, fantasy and not life, Turturro begins his film about 30 years after most musicals end: cue marriage, children, boredom, affairs, death. But the band is playing on as Gandolfini's Queens construction worker takes up (and down and up) with Winslet's outrageously potty-mouthed shopgirl. Sarandon plays the harassed wife, surrounded by her outraged posse of daughters and ex-lovers. The bleakly bizarre, uneven aesthetic, and direction that is fluid but not quite limber, succeed and fail from montage to montage, with the principals doing a sort of karaoke tribute to the likes of Joplin and Springsteen. And with a dragging final third, Turturro subverts the most satisfying part of a musical, proper or postmodern: the big finish.