Vivienne, played by Sarah Jessica Parker, waits in a reception area moments before she is diagnosed with aggressive glioblastomas.

When she receives the diagnosis, she asks if it will affect her singing, which her doctor says is very possible. Cue existential crisis and quiet desperation.

Here and Now, directed by Fabien Constant, introduces many side characters, shuttling Vivienne from one interaction to another. All of these interactions, whether it is with her manager, lover, ex-husband, daughter, uber-driver, etc., are meant to reveal more about Vivienne, yet somehow all of these encounters rarely tell us anything nuanced or different. All that we really learn is 1) because of touring, Vivienne wasn’t present for her ex-husband or daughter. 2) She’s emotionally isolated and unable to confide in anyone about her diagnosis. And 3) her mother (Jacqueline Bisset) is overbearing, neurotic, and French.

Since Vivienne is a singer, what better way to show her spirit and character than to see her sing. Yet the first opportunity is cut short when Vivienne goes to rehearsal. Instead of letting us hear her sing, the film cuts away to her mother waiting in Vivienne’s apartment, then cuts back to the end of the rehearsal. When finally Vivienne performs at a bar as a guest singer, she is heavy-handedly bathed in blue light as she sings a slow, breathy song about feeling overwhelmed. This strongly represents how the film relies too much on a melancholy, minimalist soundtrack, the color blue, and extended shots of Vivienne looking lost, instead of building emotional substance through story.

‘Here and Now’ (originally titled ‘Blue Night’) wants to accomplish a lot but this only creates a scattered and shallow film.

There is a touching moment towards the end where Vivienne’s daughter, Lucie (Gus Birney), reveals that she wants to sing like her mother and shows her a song that Lucie has sung herself. Vivienne also confides in her ex-husband, Nick, (Simon Baker) about the brain tumors and we finally get an outburst of emotion. This release also hints at their history together, as Nick asks Vivienne why she avoids dealing with important issues and how her issues don’t just affect her. But among the many people in Vivienne’s life, the film decides to give her Uber driver, Sami, (Waleed Zuaiter) as much presence on screen as her family. Upon being her driver again after their first disaster of an encounter, Sami becomes a stoic but sympathetic companion for Vivienne until she goes back to the hospital.

While going from one place to another, Vivienne will look at the people she passes. A man in a suit riding a blue Citibike. An elegant older woman fixing her heel as her husband smiles. A couple kissing. It feels like an attempt to create a study of New York City but ultimately, all of this only adds more noise to the film. There are also some beautiful images of Viv’s shadow on a sidewalk and a woman’s wrinkled hands and crow’s feet, but there are also many frames that seem too contrived and pretty which distract rather than add to the story.

Here and Now (originally titled Blue Night) wants to accomplish a lot but this only creates a scattered and shallow film. The clearest and strongest sense of emotion comes at the end when Vivienne opens up to her ex-husband and daughter — and this is where it feels like the film should have started.

‘Here and Now’ is rated R for language and some sexual content. 91 minutes. Now playing in select theaters and on Amazon Prime.