My grad advisor in British Romanticism, Brad Mudge, had this thing where he'd ask, after reading a poem, where the poem "breathes." I always loved that question; I love it still. It speaks to me of understanding that art will, when it's done well, cease to become something extant and begin to become something internal. The Romanticists--Shelley, I think it was--talk about the words of poets as seeds that engender new ideas in the heart of the reader. The moment I'm Your Woman "breathes" for me is in a diner sequence midway through where our hero, Jean (Rachel Brosnahan), tells her temporary protector, Cal (Arinze Kene), how after a series of miscarriages, she "burned" all the desire for a child out of herself to protect herself from more heartbreak. Already a good film, I'm Your Woman becomes a great one here in this open, vulnerable conversation about something that happens to as many as 20% of known pregnancies. It's so prevalent an event that common wisdom dictates you don't share your pregnancy news until well into a pregnancy in anticipation of it. My wife and I suffered three miscarriages (one more traumatic than the others, all of them a death of hope) before we successfully carried our first child to term.