Whimsy is a difficult tone to master. Too often, attempts at magical realism can come off as forced and overly cutesy. At last year’s Toronto film festival, David Gordon Green’s Manglehorn went full throttle with its unusual flourishes and ended up as a grating misfire. This year, Australian comedy drama A Month of Sundays, promises a suburban bucketload of the stuff and it delivers mixed results.

Anthony LaPaglia stars as an estate agent who is passively stuck in a rut. His job brings him no satisfaction, his TV star wife has left him and he has just received a call from his dead mother. Except, of course, that it wasn’t his dead mother but a wrong number from an elderly woman who he then starts to befriend.

It’s an unlikely set-up yet for a while, writer/director Matthew Saville makes it work. There’s a light, softly sad tone that lingers throughout every scene and the dialogue remains sharp and insightful (“You’d much rather apologise after than be reasonable beforehand”). The problem is that once the film gets into its stride, it doesn’t really have anywhere to go.

The central friendship never truly convinces and as the third act arrives, we are in disappointingly familiar territory. Despite the initially offbeat tone, a curve-ball is thrown our way that straightens the proceedings out and the latter emotional beats don’t hit as hard as they should. Throughout it all, LaPaglia remains strong, understated and likable, showing again that his best work often comes from his homeland.

There’s something to admire about the risks taken during the beginning of A Month of Sundays and then something to lament over the generic notes we’re left with by the end. Whimsy remains but a dream.