This Is Where I Leave You Movie Review 0 29


With the likes of ‘August: Osage County’, ‘What We Did On Our Holiday’ and ‘The Judge’ and all hitting screens in 2014, it appears that this year is having some sort of dysfunctional family crisis. It’s no surprise then that new release ‘This Is Where I Leave You’ showcases yet another family in crisis. This endearing film takes place – as films of this sort usually do – after the death of a family member that forces various estranged members of a family back together.

On the request of their late father, the different grown up Altman siblings are forced to “sit Shiva” – the Jewish tradition of the deceased’s family staying at home and receiving visitors without distraction from their normal lives – in their childhood home with their various spouses and girlfriends, where secrets and grudges bubble to the surface.

Directed by one of Hollywood’s workmanlike directors Shawn Levy (‘Night at the Museum’ franchise, ‘Real Steel’, ‘Date Night’) and written by Jonathan Tropper based on his own novel, this may not be the type of film to leave any sort of hugely memorable mark on its audience, but there’s something charming and appealingly honest about the drama that it puts forth.

It’s a film about bringing together family members that have lost touch with one another, either as a result of drifting apart with their own lives and inevitable plethora of problems or stupid old grudges held for the sake of pride or vanity. It explores very familiar themes of sibling rivalry, familial responsibility, lineage and acting your age. Even if it’s a tad ‘been-there-done-that’ overall, it still feels like it comes from an honest and authentic place.

The clichés would turn to utter triteness if it weren’t for the amazing cast that’s been assembled. Jason Bateman leads as Judd, the straight-shooter of the family whose marriage troubles is our way into the story. Bateman is an underrated dramatic actor and he shows that side of his talent with one of the more complex performances of the film as well as bringing that inimitable charm that always makes him a pleasure to watch.

Tina Fey plays his sister Wendy, who’s increasingly distant marriage with her pre-occupied husband is weighing heavy on her. Corey Stoll is the brother having trouble conceiving a child with his wife, played by the wonderful Kathryn Hahn; rising star Adam Driver as the sort of rockstar renegade of the family who turns up to his father’s funeral blasting music in a sports car; and the incomparable Jane Fonda takes up the role of the family’s overbearing matriarch. Sometimes the drama veers off into iffy territory – one sub-plot involving a local ex-boyfriend of Wendy’s (played by Timothy Olyphant) who has suffered a brain injury is particularly problematic – but even then the very talented cast imbue the drama with a real sense of believability and likeability.

And that’s the key word here; believable. You completely buy into the idea that these are real siblings airing their issues simultaneously, confined in the family home in which the genesis of a lot of those problems probably occurred. Does the film set the world alight? Not particularly, but it showcases great performances and a smart, often viscerally forthright script permeated by a mix of dark and playful humour. It’s not as caustic as the aforementioned ‘August: Osage County’ nor as earnest as ‘The Judge’ but finds a happy medium between the two, providing a solidly enjoyable example of the well-worn dysfunctional family dramedy.

This review was previously published on Scotcampus.

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I’m a freelance film reviewer and blogger with over 10 years of experience writing for various different reputable online and print publications. In addition to my running, editing and writing for Thoughts On Film, I am also the film critic for The National, the newspaper that supports an independent Scotland, covering the weekly film releases, film festivals and film-related features.

I have a passion for all types of cinema, and have a particular love for foreign language film, especially South Korean and Japanese cinema. Favourite films include The Big Lebowski, Pulp Fiction and 2001: A Space Odyssey.

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Movie Review: Home Again 0 358

This review was previously published at The National.

Despite an obviously talented leading lady in Reese Witherspoon and a family pedigree behind the camera in making this sort of rom-com flutter sweetly off the screen, Home Again struggles to finds its way out of cloying cliché and narrative contrivance.

This is the directorial debut of Hallie Myers-Shyer, daughter of genre stalwart Nancy Meyers (The Holiday, What Women Want). It focuses on the life of Alice Kinney (Witherspoon), a single mum who has just turned 40 and tries her best to raise her two daughters Isabel (Lola Flanery) and Rosie (Eden Grace Redfield) in Los Angeles with her job as an interior decorator.

Freshly separated from her British music mogul husband Austen (Michael Sheen), she embarks on a drunken birthday night celebration that leads to her meeting a trio of 20-something lads – Harry (Pico Alexander), George (Jon Rudnitsky) and Teddy (Nat Wolff) – who are trying their best to break into the Hollywood movie business.

The young men improbably end up staying in Alice’s guest house while they work on finishing the script for their first film. Before long they become an integral part of her life, from Alice embarking on a romantic relationship with Harry to George helping out Isabel with her school play. To quote the title of the director’s mother’s 2009 film – it’s complicated.

Except the film mistakes the kind of enjoyably frothy complexity exemplified by the best of the genre for skin-clawing convolution that renders much of the romantic and comedically-tinged drama of Alice’s life lacking in authenticity. Not that it needs the ring of truth that comes with, say, a Ken Loach picture but you need to be able to invest and believe in these characters’ lives as presented.

The approach to gender and generational relationships is simplistic which, of course, is nothing new to a genre that, at least in its Hollywoodized state, so often throws up films meant to be taken as easy-going fluff. But it’s particularly frustrating here when it squanders the potential thrown up with the initial concept of a woman trying to find herself again once she’s out of a stale relationship by entering into one with a much younger man.

It strangely seems far more interested in the plight of the three young men working as three cogs of one creative machine – director/producer, writer and actor – to get ahead in the movie business.  But even then it smacks of implausibility, like a cheap rom-com version of the bromance found in Entourage but without any of the snarky wit or Hollywood satire. Despite decent chemistry between a likeable assembled cast, Home Again is a tough pill to swallow as it rings false through and through.

3.5 out of 10

Movie Review: Goodbye Christopher Robin 0 388

This review was previously published at The National.

The world of celebrated children’s author A. A. Milne and the creation of his beloved Winnie the Pooh stories are chronicled in this frightfully polite biopic from director Simon Curtis (My Week with Marilyn) that flirts with dipping its toes into darker waters but steadfastly clings to safe tropes and always with its top button firmly fastened.

We start off in 1941 where we find an ageing Milne (Domhnall Gleeson in questionable make-up and greyed hair) and his wife Daphne (Margot Robbie) living on their secluded East Sussex farm. They receive a telegram informing them that their son, C.R. Milne, is missing presumed dead after heading off to fight in World War Two.

We then jump back in time to Milne on the front lines of the First World War. He returns from the fighting a changed man; suffering from PTSD (popped balloons evoking sudden gunfire et al.), becoming increasingly sick of just making people laugh with his West End plays and the general hustle-bustle that comes with big city life.

He convinces his reluctant wife to move to the country for some peace and quiet and where his infant son, Christopher Robin (played by Will Tilston at the younger age, Alex Lawther as he gets older), can go on the childhood adventures he deserves with the support of loving nanny Olive (Kelly Macdonald).

Settling into the kind of serene life he craves, he is inspired to create Winnie the Pooh and the rest of his soon-to-be-beloved friends inspired by the stuffed animals with which his young son has become so enamoured. Unfortunately for Christopher – referred to by everyone as “Billy Moon” – his father uses his real name in the stories, turning him into one of the most famous boys in the nation.

Despite the obvious attraction of it exploring the world famous Pooh stories, it’s a film much more interested in the effect it has on a fractured family clinging on to peacefulness, not least the unwanted attention thrust upon a young boy who simply isn’t equipped to handle it and how his parents carry on oblivious.

If anything it takes a curiously bleak outlook on what these stories mean to the world once they’ve been put out there, conveying a somewhat confusing message for a film that ultimately wants us to celebrate these stories as immortally cherished tales; that the Winnie the Pooh embraced immediately by the public and has now stood the test of time for almost a century is in some way missing the point of what it truly means to the author and a son who, inadvertently or not, was used as a tool of innocence to sell the idea of an idyllic childhood in Milne’s Hundred Acre Wood.

It’s bolstered by almost uniformly moving performances; Gleeson plays Milne with a kind of damaged empathy that makes you feel like you get to know the author beyond the public persona. Macdonald is oftentimes heart-breaking as Christopher’s devoted caregiver and Tilston walks away with the film as the adorably sweet-natured young Christopher. It’s only with Robbie that the film makes a misstep; she’s miscast as Milne’s wife and never stepping out of the shadow of cold motherly cliché.

In spite of its darker leanings, the film remains too buttoned up to properly wrestle with those themes in any sort of lasting way, far too polite to ever dive head first into the murky waters into which the drama intermittently peers.

Wrapped in Ben Smithard’s handsomely old-fashioned cinematography and soaked in Carter Burwell’s perpetually swelling score, it’s an aesthetically and emotionally appealing but nevertheless fairly vanilla period biopic best suited to being enjoyed on a rainy Sunday afternoon with tea and biscuits.

6.5 out of 10