You can tell that John Crowley’s adaptation of the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Goldfinch doesn’t really care about grief or love or anything substantial by the way it handles its inciting event. For this cold, heartless, sterile look at survivor’s guilt in the face of senseless tragedy, you need only observe the relationship between young Theo (Oakes Fegley) and his mother. When you do, you’ll note that there’s nothing there. There’s no nuance, no texture, no specificity; only a giant signpost that says, “My mom was killed by a terrorist, and now I …