There are some settings that don’t quite work with a soft, romantic approach. There’s no romanticizing child labor or human trafficking or abject poverty. James Gray’s The Immigrant shows there’s also no romanticizing prostitution in New York City in 1921. Gray attempts to spin a complicated love triangle though an elegant web, but two of the three main characters get stuck in mushy, bland roles despite the best efforts of the actors. What’s meant to carry an air of tragedy, damnation, and the hint of redemption ultimately comes off as silly due to Gray’s misguided approach.