Guillaume Gallienne's frivolous autobiographical comedy is an entertaining look not at the maturation process of a young man, but at the social influences and emotional product of that process. Gallienne's writing is, itself, highly mature, though devoid of the outrage it occasionally seems to court, with much promise, followed by much disappointment. Gallienne's approach is to redress offence with levity, an approach that would be bothersome were it not for the fact that this is not a filmmaking approach but a personal one. Me, Myself and Mum is, effectively, his filmed journal, and the admiration for his character that he is able to summon mostly only expands as the film progresses. He digresses from the honesty that pierces through with such regularity to divulge in some humorous tangents, which too have the capacity to bother to no end, and would do were it not for Gallienne's exemplary comic timing. In combining humanistic humour with some more challenging social aspects, he proves rather deft, though perhaps due to the short shrift he gives the latter. Just as he refrains from passing judgement on the potentially darker, more depressing points, he refrains also from explicitly stating his interpretation of the broader significance of these narrow circumstances. Gallienne keeps bringing his story back to himself, which is entirely reasonable, but there are untapped mines of material herein, principally that the root of homophobia is sexism - a theory that both is supported by the events of this film and which supports them too. Am I asking too much of M. Gallienne? Isn't his quaint little comedy good enough as it is? Isn't his dual performance as himself and his mother nothing shy of marvellous? Indeed. But don't worry yourselves wondering where that fourth star went. Take a longer look at the three that rest right there, below this review, and then take a look at Me, Myself and Mum.