We’re in the middle of summer now.

Not a good time of year for filmgoing, unless vacuous Hollywood blockbusters are your thing.

Even here in London with its huge number of cinemas I struggled to find any film I would want to see this week.

It came down to a choice between The Neon Demon or Maggie’s Plan, neither of which looked particularly enticing.

Because it was showing at a cinema slightly nearer to where I was going to meet up with a friend for a drink later, Maggie’s Plan got my vote.

Curzon Soho on Shaftesbury Avenue is a great cinema, always a good buzz in there.

‘Maggie’s Plan’ was showing in Screen 2. Dark grey-blue seating, plenty leg room, laidback jazz playing before the film started, all very relaxing away from the Shaftesbury Avenue bustle out on the street.

For a couple of minutes I was the only person there.

Then a group of three came in and sat in the row behind me. It was a woman in her twenties accompanied by her parents.

“Do you want to know what we’re going to see?” the woman asked her parents after they had settled down into their seats.

“Yes.”

“I’ll give you a synopsis.”

“Who’s in it?”

“Greta Gerwig.”

Silence.

“I haven’t heard of her.”

“Julianne Moore.”

“No.”

The auditorium lights went down and brought the synopsis to a quick end.

Before coming to see this film I’d read a few reviews. They fell clearly into two camps: either ‘funny and engaging’ or ‘irritating’.

I approached ‘Maggie’s Plan’ with an open mind.

I like Julianne Moore and Ethan Hawke, and as for Bill Hader, he was brilliantly funny in his couple of scenes as the new captain in a recent episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

So that was all quite promising.

But unfortunately the film irritated me, in a mild way, not exasperating just irksome.

With it being set in New York and akin to Woody Allen with its cast of narcissistic urban intellectuals, I had hoped that Maggie’s Plan would be better than some of the sniffy reviews made out.

There were some mildly amusing moments, but I didn’t laugh out loud once during the whole film.

The dialogue is a bit laboured and the humour doesn’t quite hit the mark.

After half an hour I thought about walking out, but I would have had an awkward amount of time to kill before meeting up for the post-film drink: not enough time to do anything else, but too much time to just hang around waiting to meet up.

So I resigned myself to sitting through the whole film, right through to the painfully predictable twist in the end, which can be seen coming a mile off.

I can see, though, why some people like ‘Maggie’s Plan’.

There are some tender affectionate moments, particularly between Maggie (Greta Gerwig) and her very cute little daughter.

Julianne Moore’s polished performance is the best thing in this film, and there is a warm glow created by the cover version of ‘Dancing In The Dark’.

Not much else appealed to me in this film, but it’s clearly got enough charm for it to resonate more strongly with other audiences than it did with me.

Mildly disappointed, I left the cinema and headed towards the Strand to meet up with a friend for a few beers.

We crossed Waterloo Bridge over to the south side of the river.

It was a beautiful summer evening, crowds of people happily milling around, London looking its best.

After a pint of Harviestoun IPA at The White Hart on Cornwall Road and a pint of amber ale at The King’s Arms, a great characterful pub on the wonderfully preserved Roupell Street, my spirits were revived and the day’s disappointing film forgotten.

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