Wednesday, August 19, 2026

Don't Say Good Luck: A poignant character drama

Don't Say Good Luck (2026) • View trailer
Four stars (out of five); rated PG-13, for thematic material, fleeting profanity, teen drinking and mild sexual references
Available via: Netflix

Sunny Sandler’s delicately nuanced starring performance fuels this charming little character drama, although — in fairness — director Julia Hart draws finely shaded work from every member of this carefully assembled cast.

 

Sophie (Sunny Sandler, left) and her mother Elizabeth (Melanie Lynskey) make the most
of a mall outing designed to help the young woman improve her stage confidence.

As I well recall from her handling of 2020’s equally captivating Stargirl, Hart excels at depicting the bond between adults and teenagers, whether parents and their children, or — also, in this case — drama coaches and their nervous young actors.

The setting is a contemporary suburban community — principle filming took place in New Jersey — with much of the action centered at Westridge High School. Sophie (Sandler) wakens on a typically bustling morning in the Birenbaum household, due to her irrepressibly mischievous younger twin brothers, Caleb and Ethan (Matan and Eitan Friedman), barely controlled by harried parents Ted (Max Greenfield) and Elizabeth (Melanie Lynskey).

 

Today is a big day for Sophie: tryouts for the annual school play. Elizabeth shares some encouraging words with her daughter, before Sophie heads for school; they’re both amused when Ted accidentally butt-dials his phone, allowing them to hear his downstairs hijinks with the boys.

 

That narrative gimmick is a clever ongoing touch in the script by Hart, Laura Hankin and Jordan Horowitz.

 

Once the school day concludes, Sophie, bestie Carolyn (Scarlett Estevez) and all the other members of the school drama club gather in the multi-purpose room. Because the selected play is the musical version of Waitress, adapted from the 2007 film of the same title, the drama club’s regular advisor, Mr. Stuart (Joel Waggoner), has surrendered the reins to musical theater coach Ms. Parker (Stephanie Beatriz).

 

All the students know that resident drama club diva Mallory Sinclair (Elyse Bell) is destined for the starring role of Jenna; Sophie hopes to get the quirky supporting role of Dawn.

 

Elsewhere, though, this also is a fateful day for Sophie’s parents, who have an appointment with Elizabeth’s oncologist. The news is bad: The cancer that she and Ted hoped had gone into remission, has returned ... with a vengeance.

 

And as this awful verdict is delivered, Ted’s phone once again butt-dials Sophie ... just as Ms. Parker calls her to the stage.

 

Hart and cinematographer Bryce Fortner pull in for a tight close-up on Sandler, as Sophie’s features run a heartbreaking gamut of shock, anxiety and what-am-I-supposed-to-do-now confusion.

 

Mallory, sitting in front of her — and logically assuming stage fright — quickly talks Sophie through a stress-reducing breathing exercise. Mostly on auto-pilot, she then takes the stage, and delivers a stunning rendition of one of the show’s angst-laden songs.

 

Ms. Parker, eyes wide and clearly surprised, assumes the girl is acting ... but we know better; Sophie is fueling this moment with genuine grief (which, of course, is Sandler acting the moment, and how meta should we get?).

 

A bit later, when the cast list goes up, Sophie is stunned to discover that she has been cast as Jenna; Mallory has been relegated to Dawn. “A sophomore, in lead?” she squeaks, in disbelief.

 

But Sophie isn’t even sure she wants the role, because it would take her away from home — and her mother — too much. This is where Hart’s directorial strength shines, during several subsequent mother/daughter encounters; each is touching, amusing and poignant, always with an undercurrent of the acknowledged medical crisis.

 

Lynskey puts heart and soul into Elizabeth’s sincerity, as she insists that Sophie absolutely, positively must pursue this role, with everything she has; it’s clearly her moment, and her bliss. Sandler’s Sophie, in turn, veers from reluctance to uncertainty, then to determination.

 

Numerous other teen-oriented complications add just the right amount of playful and/or wistful angst. Although Sophie and Carolyn tried out together, the latter was cast solely as an extra ... with only one line. The play’s demands have cut into Sophie’s ability to spend time with her bestie, and Carolyn is chafing. By way of compensation, Carolyn has caught the eye of Erin (Emma McNulty), and vice-versa.

 

Sophie has been cast opposite school hottie Jack Davis (Jack Champion), cast in the role of Dr. Pomatter. That means kissing, something with which Sophie has limited experience. When Ms. Parker comments that Jenna’s first attempt at smooching Dr. Pomatter is too chaste, Sophie bravely goes overboard during her second attempt, much to everybody’s wide-eyed amusement ... and then looks quite pleased with herself.

 

“But Jenna’s supposed to feel guilty in that moment,” Ms. Parker reminds her, with a smile.

 

(Oopsie.)

 

Sidebar details supply additional color, as these core events proceed. Ted runs a deli, named after the family; Jon Lovitz has a cute cameo early on as one of the employees, Lenny, who can’t stand the notion of serving a kale wrap. 

 

When Sophie has trouble nailing Jenna’s accent — “I sound like a cartoon rooster,” she grumbles — Elizabeth takes them for a dose of “mall therapy,” where they both practice Southern accents to annoy various shop clerks.

 

Sophie hasn’t yet learned to drive, having hoped the her mother would teach her; meanwhile, she has relied mostly on Carolyn ... but that proves difficult, as their relationship becomes strained.

 

When Elizabeth’s health continues to decline, and she insists that Sophie maintain the play rehearsal schedule, additional at-home assistance becomes necessary. Cue the arrival of Elizabeth’s parents, Dale (Steve Buscemi) and Linda (Bebe Neuwirth). The former is genuinely kind and useful, but the latter — Neuwirth in full overbearing mama bear mode — is an overly judgmental beeyatch who repeatedly insists that Sophie should spend more time at home, with her mother.

 

Not helpful.

 

The script is laden with lovely little touches. Jenna learns that she is pregnant, early on in the play; Ms. Parker therefore encourages Sophie to ask her mother what it was like to be pregnant. After an initial moment of amusing confusion — and brief panic, on Elizabeth’s face — she admits to having played “a lot of Fleetwood Mac” while carrying her daughter. (Delightful thought.)

 

As time passes, and opening night approaches, the Birenbaum family also has been looking forward to their annual holiday beach rental at Crane House a few weeks later, always after the conclusion of each school year.

 

And I don’t know if “Tech Night After Hours” is a real thing, or a fabrication of this film’s script, but — either way — it’s a delightful concept.

 

The scenes between Sunny and Ms. Parker are just as carefully staged as those between Sunny and her mother; Hart truly understands how to coax the appropriate emotional beats and body language from her young star. Beatriz makes Ms. Parker the sort of mentor every high school student should have.

 

Greenfield is superb as the compassionate and forever understanding Max, even though he’s easily overwhelmed by his two rambunctious sons. Morales radiates silent misery, when Carolyn fears that Sophie might be pulling away from her, but — a true friend forever — also is wise enough to be patient.

 

Goodness, everybody is solid. Champion’s Jack is appropriately dreamy (and shallow); Bell’s Mallory proves to be more layered and sympathetic than the average prima donna; and even Claire Scavone stands out as perky Trista Hoyt, making the most of having been cast as “Angry Patron No. 3.”

 

But the film definitely belongs to Sandler, who — as Adam Sandler’s daughter — proves, once again, that sometimes the genes definitely descend through Hollywood royalty.


This is a total charmer. It’s also an impressive introduction to Waitress, for those who’ve seen neither the film nor musical ... and likely will be encouraged to seek out both.

 

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