In "Nowhere Special," James Norton is a young, single father, dying of cancer. He stands out because of what he *doesn't* do; he doesn't have big Meryl Streep meltdowns, he doesn't smile bravely through tears. Norton has the unenviable task of "auditioning" replacement parents for his son; we see Norton and the little boy in various settings, drinking tea, making chit-chat. The range of would-be parents is wide. One instinctively knows to engage the little boy in a guessing game: "How many candies can you fit in this toy truck?" Another makes a loan of a small stuffed rabbit--but it's just a loan, because it needs to be available for other children who find themselves "on the meat market." The clock ticks and ticks. Norton is pressured to initiate a "death conversation," but he resists. "Why should my son have to think about this?" (On a pedestrian level, this made me recall guidance about trips to the doctor...