There's a rather grumpy chap called Norman Thayer, as he's got older he's become quite a purveyor, of snide and sneering comments, of complaining, grieving laments, like a rusting, buckled, beat up, old conveyer; with his wife they've settled down on golden pond, a place that they both love, and are so fond, then daughter Chelsea passes by, with her new partner by her side, and a young lad that they leave there, and then they're gone; it takes a while for the curmudgeon to develop, a liking for the boy, and to envelop, but the ice quite quickly thaws, as they fish for trout with jaws, at the end you'll feel refreshed, and full of hope.
As much as I love Henry Fonda, and he is spectacular in this, it's his daughter who bowls me over, she always does, although Katherine Hepburn should take some credit too.
As much as I love Henry Fonda, and he is spectacular in this, it's his daughter who bowls me over, she always does, although Katherine Hepburn should take some credit too.