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Along these lines, what we have is your essential Hollywood dramatization of self-revelation - laying vigorously on Spacey's capable shoulders. Inconvenience is, he lacks material to work with. While in the past his best exhibitions have been as apparently discouraged characters who startle everybody when they uncover their shrouded profundities (Verbal in The Usual Suspects, Lester in American Beauty), his character here is so weak he could open his own chain of burger bars. Denied the chance for any genuine thesping, Spacey parades Quoyle's powerlessness with the nuance of a man conveying a notice perusing: `Look at me! I'm acting!'. Luckily, with a supporting cast that incorporates Scott Glen, Rhys Ifans and the eminent Pete Postlethwaite, Spacey gets all that could possibly be needed backing to prevent him from suffocating. What's more, Newfoundland is so stuffed brimming with adorably idiosyncratic, pleasant characters you'll never be anything not exactly entertained. That may demonstrate an issue to anybody acquainted with the darker parts of E Annie Proulx's Pulitzer Prize-winning source material - specifically the subplot about the misuse endured by Dench's character - as these dim components are enhanced with Photoshop over in the headlong dash towards a gooey completion. In any case, standard punters are prone to leave the film feeling more satisfied than when they went in, regardless of the possibility that they're additionally tormented by the suspicion they've been fairly cleverly controlled.