This seems to be “Memory Lane” season for Michael Keaton.
He resurrected his saucy demon in last summer’s Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, and this dramedy is a sorta-kinda reboot of 1983’s Mr. Mom.
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| Parenting isn't easy, as absentee dad Andy (Michael Keaton) discovers, when trying to make up for lost time with his 9-year-old twins, Mose (Jacob Kopera) and Billie (Vivien Lyra Blair). |
That said, Keaton is inherently, effortlessly funny, even when dialed down; this has been obvious since his breakout supporting role in 1982’s Night Shift. His signature smirky grin is disarming; the recipient never knows whether a joke is being playfully shared, or if he’s the victim of the zinger.
Here, though, that twitchy smile is a reflexive self-defense mechanism, designed to conceal true feelings ... which is at the heart of the title character’s failings.
Andy Goodrich (Keaton) is a 60-year-old Los Angeles art dealer. He’s always taking calls, courting the next Hot Talent, and working long hours at his boutique gallery in order to prepare an upcoming installation ... all at the expense of spending time with his much younger wife, Naomi (Laura Benanti), and two 9-year-old twins, Billie (Vivien Lyra Blair) and Mose (Jacob Kopera).
The film begins as a phone call blasts Andy out of bed one morning; it’s Naomi, calling from the rehab clinic where she has just checked in for a 90-day detox program. As it happens, this will span the holiday season of Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Andy is gob-smacked, having been oblivious to her prescription pill addiction. That only makes the situation worse, and Naomi coldly demands that he not visit her.
He tries anyway, only to be rebuffed by a cheerfully unhelpful receptionist who won’t even confirm or deny Naomi’s presence.
Kimberly Condict, as the receptionist, is on camera for barely a minute, but her sweetly condescending, I’ve-got-your-number-buster manner is absolutely hilarious.
On the home front, Andy hasn’t the faintest idea how to deal with the twins’ schedules: making lunch, school drop-off and pick-up, and so forth. Mose responds silently, retreating behind headphones and a screen; Billie strikes back in unexpectedly adult fashion. When her slight Valley Girl idiom is challenged by her father, she tartly replies, “Hey, if you don’t want me to talk like I’m from L.A., don’t raise me in L.A.”
Young Blair is another of this film’s many delights; she’s a marvelous little actress, with flawless timing and line delivery. Her oh-so-wise demeanor is quietly tragic, because Billie knows full well what sort of father Andy has been. Her list of long-unspoken disappointments is topped by Can’t Be Trusted To Do Anything.
Goodness, his notion of a fun evening with a movie involves showing the twins 1942’s Casablanca ... which of course puts them to sleep.
Out of his depth and floundering, Andy calls the one person he believes will help: 36-year-old Grace (Mila Kunis), his daughter from his first marriage. Andy’s timing is terrible; he catches her in mid-ultrasound — she’s quite pregnant — with husband Pete (Danny Deferrari), who’s understandably baffled to learn that Andy had no idea his wife had a drug problem.
“Are you kidding?” Grace scoffs, from bitter experience. “Of course he didn’t know!”
Andy’s relationship with Grace is prickly at best, because she already experienced a disappointing childhood under his benign neglect. But she therefore understands what the twins will endure, left solely in his care, so she does help.
This makes Grace’s dynamic with Andy even worse, as the days pass ... because she sees him genuinely trying to become the father, for the twins, that he never was for her.
That’s the sort of emotional complexity that makes Meyers-Shyer’s film far better than a run-of-the-mill comedy.
The tapestry expands to include Terry (Michael Urie), father of one of Billie and Mose’s classmates, a part-time actor still struggling after having been abandoned by his husband three years earlier. Unlike the thick-skinned Grace and Billie, Terry wears his heart on his sleeve; Andy instinctively wants to be a friend, and help.
Urie plays the wounded-sparrow card a tot too broadly, but Terry is nonetheless endearing, in a sloppily sentimental way.
On the business side, Andy’s gallery is in trouble; he desperately needs a popular exhibit. A potentially perfect solution arrives when respected painter Teresa Thompson dies, and managing the estate falls into the hands of her daughter, Lola (Carmen Ejogo). But courting Lola is an extensive endeavor, requiring time that Andy knows should be spent with the twins and Grace.
Keaton and Kunis spar persuasively. Grace knows that Andy is trying, this time, and is by turns impressed and irritated. Part of the tension results from her knowing that Andy always has been somewhat contemptuous of Pete’s occupation as an otolaryngologist (as if specializing in head and neck management is somehow less impressive than “real” doctors). But she’s still Andy’s daughter, and genuinely wants to spend time with him, even when he exasperates her.
Kunis handles annoyance quite well; her eyes shoot lethal sparks.
The supporting cast is strong. Kevin Pollak is kind and patient as Cy, Andy’s business partner, and the frequent bearer of bad news. The always charming Poorna Jagannathan is Grace’s obstetrician, and Andie MacDowell makes the most of her fleeting appearance as Ann, Andy’s first wife. (Yes, Ann and Andy. That’s a bit too much on the nose.)
Christopher Willis’ gentle score shares time with wide-ranging pop tunes such as “Blow It Up,” “The Way You Love Me,” “Revolve Vox” and Frank Sinatra’s silky handling of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
As for where all of this goes, don’t expect an impeccably wrapped up finale. Life is messy, and Meyers-Shyer knows this. The conclusion of her story is precisely what it needs to be.
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