The Good House: Reasonably well constructed

The Good House (2022) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for profanity and brief sexuality

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

Because we spend so much time inside her protagonist’s head, there was only one way to successfully bring Ann Leary’s 2013 novel to the big screen.

 

Happily, writer/directors Maya Forbes and Wallace Wolodarsky — with a scripting assist from Thomas Bezucha — took the bold approach.

 

Although much of her life is sliding down the drain, Hildy (Sigourney Weaver) always
finds joy while walking her dogs with longtime friend Frank (Kevin Kline).

Sigourney Weaver’s Hildy Good constantly breaks the fourth wall to address us viewers directly, while sharing her thoughts, opinions, vexations and disappointments regarding the friends, neighbors and fellow citizens in the Massachusetts town of Wendover. Born and bred in this adorable coastal community, Hildy regards herself as its unofficial matriarch.

Outwardly, she’s the embodiment of the Puritan work ethic: industrious, practical and self-reliant, having raised herself up from working-class “townie” to become the most successful Realtor on Boston’s tony North Shore.

 

But as a longtime alcoholic who refuses to acknowledge that she has a problem, Hildy also is a wholly unreliable narrator.

 

Weaver makes her tart, witty, well-read and acutely perceptive; her snarky line deliveries and authoritative body language brook no dissent. Hildy is descended from witches, and may be a “Gammy” herself, given an uncanny ability to “read” people while holding their hands.

 

She also has two adorably cute dogs, who follow her every move.

 

As this story begins, though, Hildy has just returned from an enforced rehab intervention staged by her daughters, Tess (Rebecca Henderson) and Emily (Molly Brown). Tess is married, with a family; as we initially meet her, Henderson makes the woman seem severe, strict and judgmental … borderline unlikable. (Savvy viewers will understand that this often is inevitable, in children raised by alcoholics.)

 

As time passes, though, Henderson’s subtle performance reveals the unfairness of that initial reading.

 

Brown’s Emily, still in college, is rather obtuse: wrapped up in herself, and definitely exuding an aura of entitlement.

 

Hildy is snappish and humiliated by the embarrassment of having been “outed” so visibly, by her family and close friends. She also doesn’t understand what the fuss is all about; she never met a problem that couldn’t be solved over two glasses of Pinor Noir, and besides … she’s more fun when she’s drinking.

 

Until she isn’t.