In a year marked by unimaginable sorrow for Hollywood, the recent passing of visionary director Rob Reiner and the earlier death of iconic actress Diane Keaton have left an indelible void in the world of cinema. Reiner, the masterful storyteller behind timeless classics like When Harry Met Sally…, The Princess Bride, and Stand By Me, was tragically taken on December 14, 2025, alongside his wife Michele in a shocking homicide. Keaton, the effervescent star of Annie Hall and The Godfather trilogy, succumbed to pneumonia on October 11, 2025, at age 79. As fans continue to grapple with these losses, Netflix’s quiet removal of one of Reiner’s later works—a charming, if understated, romantic comedy starring Keaton—feels like an unintended final blow. And So It Goes (2014), directed by Reiner and featuring Michael Douglas and Keaton in lead roles, has vanished from the platform without fanfare, stirring fresh waves of grief and frustration among viewers still mourning these legends.

No official announcement accompanied the film’s departure, a common but often frustrating practice in streaming libraries where licensing agreements expire silently. For many, this isn’t merely a routine content rotation; it’s a poignant erasure of a piece that connected two departed icons. Reiner, who also cameo-ed in the film as Keaton’s piano accompanist, and Keaton, delivering heartfelt musical performances, brought a lived-in authenticity to this tale of late-life redemption. In the shadow of their absences, revisiting And So It Goes becomes an act of remembrance—a chance to celebrate their enduring talents while reflecting on themes of loss, renewal, and unexpected connection that now resonate even more deeply.

Released in 2014, And So It Goes marked one of Reiner’s returns to the romantic comedy genre that he helped define in the 1980s and 1990s. Written by Mark Andrus (who co-wrote Reiner’s earlier hit As Good as It Gets), the film pairs Michael Douglas as Oren Little, a cantankerous, self-absorbed real estate agent eager to sell his lavish home and retire in peace, with Diane Keaton as Leah, his warm-hearted neighbor aspiring to a singing career despite frequent emotional breakdowns on stage. Oren’s solitary, bitter existence—shaped by the death of his wife and estrangement from his son—is upended when his adult son (Scott Shepherd) unexpectedly drops off a granddaughter, Sarah (Sterling Jerins), he never knew existed. Facing jail time for a crime he insists he didn’t commit, the son leaves Sarah in Oren’s reluctant care.

What follows is a predictable yet endearing journey of transformation. Oren, initially ill-equipped and uninterested in childcare (his idea of dinner is bologna sandwiches), enlists Leah’s help. Leah, a widow herself grappling with grief through her lounge singing, becomes a nurturing figure for young Sarah. As the trio navigates everyday challenges—caterpillar science projects, family dinners, and neighborhood squabbles—their interactions chip away at Oren’s defenses. He learns vulnerability, Leah rediscovers joy, and Sarah finds stability in their makeshift family.

At its core, And So It Goes is a film about second chances in the autumn of life. Reiner, drawing from his knack for blending humor with heartfelt emotion, crafts scenes that feel intimately human. Douglas excels as the grumpy Oren, channeling a curmudgeonly charm reminiscent of Jack Nicholson’s role in As Good as It Gets—a deliberate echo, given the shared screenwriter. His sharp one-liners and gradual softening provide the film’s comedic backbone, while moments of quiet revelation, like Oren confronting his past regrets, add emotional weight.

Keaton, ever the luminous presence, shines brightest. Her Leah is quirky, resilient, and profoundly relatable—a woman who cries through performances of classic ballads like “The Shadow of Your Smile” yet persists with unyielding spirit. Keaton’s real singing voice lends authenticity to these sequences, turning potential schmaltz into touching vignettes of vulnerability. Reiner’s cameo as her bumbling pianist adds a meta layer of warmth, as if the director is gently supporting his star from the sidelines.

Supporting performances bolster the ensemble: Frances Sternhagen as Oren’s sharp-tongued colleague, Frankie Valli in a brief but memorable turn, and young Sterling Jerins as the wide-eyed Sarah, whose innocence catalyzes change. The film’s Connecticut settings—picturesque small-town homes and cozy venues—evoke a nostalgic Americana, complemented by Marc Shaiman’s sentimental score.

Critics in 2014 were mixed, often faulting the film’s predictability and sentimental leanings. With a modest 43% on Rotten Tomatoes (based on contemporary reviews), some dismissed it as formulaic, a pale shadow of Reiner’s earlier rom-com triumphs. Detractors pointed to clichéd tropes: the gruff protagonist’s heart-melting arc, the adorable child bridging divides, the inevitable romance blooming amid adversity. Yet others praised its gentle appeal, noting it as comfort food for mature audiences underserved by Hollywood’s youth obsession. In retrospect, these criticisms feel somewhat harsh; And So It Goes never pretends to reinvent the wheel. Instead, it embraces the rom-com blueprint with sincerity, prioritizing character over surprises.

Today, in light of recent tragedies, the film’s themes hit harder. Grief permeates the story—Oren’s lingering pain from his wife’s death mirrors the real-world mourning for Reiner and Keaton. Leah’s tearful songs evoke raw emotion, much like the outpouring of tributes following Keaton’s passing. And the message of finding family in unexpected places offers solace amid loss. Reiner, a director who championed human connection in films like The Princess Bride and When Harry Met Sally…, infuses this later work with the same optimistic spirit. His tragic end, just days ago on December 19, 2025, adds a layer of poignancy; this was part of his post-prime output, a reminder that even legends evolve, experiment, and occasionally stumble while pursuing stories of hope.

Keaton’s performance, one of her later leading roles, captures her signature blend of eccentricity and grace. Known for defying age stereotypes throughout her career—from Something’s Gotta Give to the Book Club series—she embodies Leah’s unapologetic pursuit of dreams. Her death earlier this year robbed us of future collaborations, making scenes of her singing or bantering with Douglas feel precious.

Netflix’s removal exacerbates the sting. While the platform hosts rotating libraries (and the film remains available elsewhere, like Prime Video), its disappearance during this mourning period feels untimely. Fans turning to streaming for comfort—perhaps seeking Reiner’s directorial touch or Keaton’s radiant smile—now face absence. It’s a reminder of cinema’s ephemerality in the digital age, where beloved works can vanish overnight.

Yet this prompts a broader appreciation. And So It Goes may not rank among Reiner’s masterpieces, but it embodies his enduring belief in redemption and love’s enduring power. Douglas and Keaton’s chemistry sparkles, proving stars of their caliber can elevate familiar material. The film’s modest box office ($25 million worldwide) belied its quiet charm; it found a home on streaming, introducing it to new generations.

In grieving Reiner and Keaton, we celebrate their legacies. Reiner directed eras-defining films that shaped romantic comedy and coming-of-age stories. Keaton redefined leading ladies with wit and independence. And So It Goes connects them—a director mentoring his star, collaborators crafting a tale of healing.

As the title suggests, life persists amid heartbreak. Oren learns to open his heart; Leah finds her voice; Sarah discovers belonging. In our collective sorrow, perhaps we can too—by cherishing these performances, seeking out their classics, and honoring the joy they brought.

If you haven’t seen And So It Goes recently, track it down on other platforms. It’s a gentle reminder that even in later chapters, stories of love and growth endure. Rest in peace, Rob Reiner and Diane Keaton. Your light continues to shine on screen. 😢