The Richard LaGravenese-directed film centers on a widowed middle-aged writer having an affair with a younger movie star — who happens to be her daughter’s boss.

Throughout A Family Affair, daughter Zara (Joey King) and mom Brooke (Nicole Kidman) argue over just what kind of a man Chris Cole (Zac Efron) is. To Zara, he’s a self-absorbed movie star boss who oscillates between unreasonable demands and threats of firing. For Brooke, he’s an attentive lover, the first man to reawaken her to the possibility of romance since the death of Zara’s father, Charlie.

The first Chris we meet is the obnoxious one. Onscreen, he’s the Marvel-style hero of a terrible-sounding franchise called Icarus Rush; offscreen, he’s a vain man-child pitching hissy fits at Zara. He calls her at odd hours to send her looking for protein powder, and makes her assemble gift baskets for his dogs with her own money. He runs through girlfriends like tissues, then sends her to pick up his stuff from their houses. He strings her along with the promise of an assistant producer credit, but continually insists she’s not “ready” to do much more than pick up his dry cleaning. None of these gags are especially fresh — Chris is simply every spoiled Hollywood stereotype rolled into one. But screenwriter Carrie Solomon comes at them with the wry fondness of an insider who knows just how ridiculous her industry can be.

All this Hollywood satire is merely set-up for the real plot of A Family Affair, which kicks in once Chris invites himself over to the home Zara shares with her mother. While waiting for her to show, he and Brooke get to talking over tequila shots. The next thing either of them know, Brooke is ripping open the very t-shirt that Chris, only the day before, had screamed at Zara for not treating more gently.

At first, the hook-up is played for laughs. Chris remains his ditzy self, wooing Brooke from lines with his own movies. (“This time I mean it,” he insists when she teasingly calls him out on it.) Zara is so startled to find her mother in bed with her employer that she goes full slapstick, choking on a grape and knocking herself unconscious. Fumbling to explain, Brooke accidentally invokes the same excuse Zara gave her for getting a forbidden eyebrow piercing as a teen: “It made sense at the time when the guy was putting it in.”

But A Family Affair takes on a more sincere and sentimental tone as the hook-up evolves into something deeper. Kidman and Efron share a decently sweet chemistry that’s nothing like the tawdry dynamic they flaunted in The Paperboy. Chris gets vulnerable about his childhood tragedies and the loneliness of fame. She confesses it’s been years since she felt desired, and allows herself the luxury of “going a little crazy” for the first time since she can remember. Although there are moments when the film goes big with expensive dinners and private studio tours and an adorably quirky third-act gesture, the relationship is generally pitched as a slow-burn love affair, not an impassioned fling.

The fantasies that the movie does tap into are more mundane, and almost more poignant for it. One is of being a female writer whose talent attracts, rather than intimidates, an eligible suitor. Brooke recounts how fellow writer Charlie seemed to resent her success; Chris, on the other hand, goes out of his way to find her writing, and even memorizes her best bits by heart. The other is of being a mother whose child finally appreciates her sacrifices. All three lead characters could be accused of making short-sighted or self-serving choices. But it’s Brooke the movie portrays as a saint who’s earned whatever happiness she can get, and Zara who’s made to apologize for being selfish.

Parallels are drawn between Brooke lovingly tending to Zara’s every need through a difficult childhood and Zara catering to Chris’ now. I’d point out that those situations are not remotely the same, and in fact have no business being in the same conversation — just as A Family Affair‘s Hollywood material and its drama feel at times like they’ve come from two completely different films. But the lines are delivered with such heartfelt tenderness that for a moment, you might be moved in spite of yourself.