As homespun as a crocheted teacosy; as folksy as an heirloom patchwork quilt and as manufactured as reproduction Shaker furniture – that’s Nights in Rodanthe. It’s a movie that wears its heart on its sleeve, appliquéd and adorned with cross stitch. It’s a shame that the usually rewarding pairing of Diane Lane and Richard Gere is wasted in material this glaringly mediocre.

Lane plays Adrienne, an embattled mother of two whose wayward husband has decided that, after seven months in the arms of another woman, he wants to return home. Adrienne clearly has a lot of thinking to do, and plans to do it in a kookily overdecorated seaside inn she’s minding for her best friend Jean (sassy, straight-talking, played by Viola Davis). There is but one guest booked in for the weekend, Paul (Gere), a high-achieving but guilt-ridden doctor who has come to Rodanthe to confront his mistake.

The first-time director George C. Wolfe favours picture-postcard framing, lovingly lingering on the scenic coastline of North Carolina’s Outer Banks. He uses the weather to emphasise the emotional state of his characters – a hurricane lashes the inn while passions rise inside; the next day, in the bliss of new love consummated, Paul and Adrienne are bathed in sunlight. The message seems to be one of second chances and new starts, but then the film’s maudlin conclusion rather goes back on its word, short-changing sentimentalists holding out for a happy ending. It’s pure hokum.

PG, 96 minutes

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