Relationships, like laptops, sometimes need to hit Reset.
Director Bradley Cooper’s thoughtful, unhurried character study opens on a close-up of Alex Novak (Will Arnett), present solely in body, as a parent at a school activity being thoroughly enjoyed by a gaggle of kids that includes adolescent sons Felix (Blake Kane) and Jude (Calvin Knegten).
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| At one point, as their marriage unravels, Alex (Will Arnett) is surprised by the intensity with which Tess (Laura Dern) angrily laments missing the happier, more spontaneous person that he once was. |
He knows — as we soon learn — that this is the last such event he and wife Tess (Laura Dern) will attend as a couple. “This isn’t working,” they’ve mutually agreed ... “this” being the American dream of a home, two kids, two lovably large dogs (Charlie and Lucy) and a successful career (his days occupied by something “in finance”).
The unspoken middle-age crossroads finds them flailing.
Alex soon will move into an apartment, as a “trial separation,” but they haven’t told anybody yet: not their friends, not his parents, and certainly not their sons. This school event, followed by a regular game night with friends — Christine (Andra Day) and the aptly nicknamed Balls (Cooper); and Stephen (Sean Hayes) and Geoffrey (Scott Icenogle) — will be Alex and Tess’ final hurrah.
The group conversation is lively; Alex occasionally smiles and nods, but he clearly isn’t paying attention. He isn’t present in the moment. Cinematographer Matthew Libatique favors tight close-ups, which amplify Arnett’s vacuous, forlorn expression.
Balls — typically late to arrive, typically stoned — trips on a carpet coming in, dumping an entire carton of milk.
“Don’t cry over spilt milk,” Tess says (a line that’s a bit too on the nose). It becomes clear that her cheerfulness is a pose that occasionally evaporates, exposing ... something. Disappointment? Anger? Certainly not relief.
All this aside, during the next few days Alex and Tess are sensitive to their sons’ reactions and needs; both boys, in their feature acting debuts, deliver heartfelt and refreshingly natural performances under Cooper’s careful guidance.
An undisclosed period of time passes, during which Alex has put his new apartment together. Late one evening, prowling one of New York City’s many club zones, wanting a drink, he pauses at the Olive Tree Café and is surprised by the $15 entry fee ... and further surprised when the door attendant admits the next person without a fee.
“How come she didn’t have to pay 15 bucks?” Alex asks.
“She put her name down.”
So Alex adds his name to the list, little realizing that he has just booked himself a slot in a stand-up comedy club. He gamely takes the microphone when his turn arrives, fumbles through a brief, semi-confessional monologue ... and elicits a few genuine chuckles. The other would-be comics, recognizing a first-timer, reward him with smiles of encouragement.
Just like that, he’s hooked.
Alex quickly realizes that spinning his actual fears, desires, disappointments and genuinely funny past events are just as therapeutic as lying on a psychiatrist’s couch ... and much more fun. By taking notes, preparing material and routines, he’s working out his own personal issues and problems.
This part of the story is precisely how celebrated British comedian/actor John Bishop got his start, when — in late 2000, then working as a pharmaceutical company medical representative — he entered Manchester’s Frog and Bucket comedy club and, not knowing what it was, put his name down on “the list” in order to avoid paying the £4 entry fee.
By way of reward, Bishop shares story/scripting credit here with Arnett, Cooper and Mark Chappell.
As the weeks pass, Alex becomes part of the small community that helps each other hustle gigs in clubs throughout the city.
“It’s terrifying,” he admits, “and I love every aspect of it.”
Cooper populates these supporting roles with stand-up pros such as Amy Sedaris, Dave Attell, Reggie Conquest, Jordan Jensen and Chloe Radcliffe. The latter plays the captivating Nina, who becomes something of a mentor and cheering section for Alex.
This increasingly regular gig helps Alex find the “bliss” that he thought long gone. It’s captivating to watch Arnett blossom: at first clumsily, cautiously and reluctantly, not wanting to jinx what’s happening. He becomes a better, more honest father to Felix and Jude, and is happier: a change Tess notes initially with surprise, then quietly seething hostility.
She once was an Olympics-caliber volleyball player, who abandoned her beloved sport to become wife and mother. (Big mistake.)
The crucial moment arrives when Tess, entirely by accident, wanders into a club where Alex has earned his first billed 10-minute slot. He doesn’t know she’s in the audience, and Tess’ reaction — Libatique holds on tight close-ups of Dern’s face — is a master class of acting subtlety. Tess exhibits a cornucopia of emotions, starting with astonishment and blazing-eyed fury, and ultimately landing on...
...ah, but that would be telling.
Day and Cooper are equally absorbing as Christine and Balls, who have their own problems. He’s an eccentric actor forever seeking A Big Break, while settling for understudy work in New York’s theater scene; she’s resentful of his laissez faire attitude, and worried about what’ll become of their marriage, as their son prepares to leave for college.
Both Christine and Balls have telling individual conversations with Alex, at key portions of this saga; Day and Cooper put heart and soul into those moments.
Will’s parents are similarly well cast. Christine Ebersole’ Marilyn is an outspoken, unapologetically blunt firecracker. She defiantly tells her son that Tess will remain an important part of her life ... which obviously is fine, but Marilyn doth protest too much. Jan (Ciarán Hinds), in contrast, in quiet and unassuming, and far better attuned to Will’s personal crisis.
Stephen and Geoffrey are the sole pair in a stable relationship ... but their characters are underdeveloped, and little more than background window-dressing.
The comedy club sequences, as we experience them through Alex, are an exhilarating rush ... but Cooper’s adept directorial touch, and the sensitive script, truly shine during the quieter, confessional moments.
This film’s theatrical debut was lost in the shuffle of higher-profile mid-December releases, and — hopefully — it’ll now find the audience it deserves.
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