REVIEW: This Is Where I Leave You

Courtesy of Warner Bros.

For a movie nerd, there are few moments more disappointing than getting excited for a film with a fantastic ensemble, and then watching in despair as the actors are squandered with lame subplots or go-nowhere characters. Or worse, realizing that deceptive marketing has tricked you into believing a great actor plays a prominent role, only to have him pop up in a quick cameo.

Luckily, the new comedic drama This Is Where I Leave You utilizes its massive cast surprisingly well. Only a few of my favorite character actors – Connie Britton, Kathryn Hahn and Corey Stoll – don’t get the screen time they deserve, but it’s honestly it’s a fair trade for a breakthrough performance from Adam Driver. The guy’s going to be a superstar.

The film focuses on the eccentric, dysfunctional Altman family, who just lost their father to cancer. Their mother, Hillary (Jane Fonda), insists everyone return to their childhood home to sit shiva, the Jewish tradition in which immediate family members mourn a loved one by gathering under one roof and receiving visitors for seven days.

Despite her adult children’s protests – mostly that they don’t like each other and their dad was an atheist – they travel from various parts of the country to reunite for a week, bringing along their individual soap opera-level dramas. It’s almost immediately clear that their therapist mother – sporting a newly generous bustline – is the common denominator.

Judd (Jason Bateman) is traveling solo because he recently caught his wife (Abigail Spencer) in bed with his boss (Dax Shepard), but there’s no way he’s telling his family or his former flame (Rose Byrne). Instead, he makes up a lame excuse about back problems. Wendy (Tina Fey) arrives with toddler and worthless husband in tow, still struggling with her feelings for her first love, Horry (Timothy Olyphant). He still lives across the street, but she hasn’t spoken to him much since an accident left him with a debilitating brain injury.

Paul (Stoll) and his wife, Alice (Hahn), show up with enough baggage for their own movie. They’ve been trying to have a baby for years with no luck. And if Paul wasn’t already on edge, now they’re forced to spend a week living with Judd, who once dated Alice for a few months. Finally, there’s Phillip (Driver), the baby of the family who shows up with the living embodiment of his oedipal complex, a stunning therapist (Britton) nearly two decades his senior.

Over the course of a week, all of their problems erupt, leading to a number of cathartic moments. Some are contrived, some are touching and some are hilarious, but overall they add up to an entertaining and recognizable story.

As the narrative’s central character, Bateman delivers typically strong work, particularly in scenes that call for him to play it straight. It’s easy to take him for granted as an actor because of his everyman qualities, but his performance here – much like his work as Michael Bluth on Arrested Development – is deceptively simple. He may seem like the sanest Altman, but it’s actually that his kind of crazy is easy to camouflage.

Fey earns her shared top billing with Bateman. Audiences are used to seeing the 30 Rock veteran bring the funny (which a hospital scene late in the film proves she’s still amazing at), but her performance also proves she’s equally adept at drama. Fonda, Britton, Hahn and Stoll are also quite strong, even though they’re each in only a handful of scenes.

But it’s Driver’s performance that is going to make him real famous, real fast. He’s a welcome burst of energy from his first hilarious appearance to his touching final moments. I imagine it’s nearly impossible to steal scenes from Bateman and Fey, but the guy does it repeatedly. That’s probably why he’s currently shooting Star Wars: Episode VII before he goes off to star in Scorsese’s next drama.

Lest you think this review is a total lovefest, This Is Where I Leave You isn’t perfect. The screenplay, which Jonathan Tropper adapted from his own bestselling novel, has a major problem with expositional dialogue, resulting in characters explaining crucial information to siblings who should already be intimately familiar with it. They’re really talking to the audience, which means viewers are awkwardly yanked out of the story in key moments when they should be the most invested.

The film also clumsily telegraphs many of its narrative turns from light-years away. It’s not like the story is leading up to a Shyamalan-style plot twist or anything, but there are moments when none of these characters understand simple human behavior. At one point, a woman arguing with her husband theatrically runs to a toilet and throws up. Only an idiot doesn’t know what this means, but her husband responds with, “you sick or something?”

Still, This Is Where I Leave You is a welcome transition into the fall movie season. It’s probably not going to be an awards contender, but it’s far better than the garbage audiences have been subjected to over the last month or so. Hallelujah, movies for grown-ups are back.

This Is Where I Leave You is rated R for language, sexual content and some drug use.

Grade: B