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Reviews of Recent Independent, Foreign, & Documentary Films in Theaters and DVD/Home Video
EVERYBODY’S FINE In Everybody’s Fine, truth takes a backseat to complacency, much as realism does to heavy-handed symbolism. Frank Goode (Robert De Niro), a recent widower and retiree, finds himself alone and out of the loop when all four of his children cancel on a family reunion. Not to be deterred by vague excuses and doctor’s warnings, he packs his suitcase and sets out to visit all four. Traveling by train, bus, and eventually plane, he hops all over the country in an attempt to reconnect with his brood, only to find that he does not know his children as well as he thought he did. In fact, he barely knows them at all. With the patriarch played by De Niro, and his children by Sam Rockwell, Drew Barrymore, and Kate Beckinsale, it’s difficult for the film to go wrong. And granted, Kirk Jones (Waking Ned Devine and Nanny McPhee) has made a drama that points to a relevant issue, the way we neglect older generations of Americans. Watching Frank walk around his empty house, picture perfect in suburban splendor, is a study in quiet loneliness—he waters his lawn, puts out chairs, and readies a grill for children who aren’t coming. Jones emphasizes his point through travelers Frank meets along the way. A truck driver who recently lost her husband, an elderly diner customer forgotten by society and his son—all provide testimony to the forgotten generation. The most eloquent is De Niro. His performance, a study in patience and hidden disappointment, is mostly driven by close ups. Every line, every look in Frank’s eye speaks of a silent resignation. If Jones had stayed in this subdued tenor, Everybody’s Fine may have stayed, well, fine. But Hollywood being Hollywood, and schmaltz being schmaltz, too much is never enough. The Goodes (hint hint) have not just one big family secret, but, well…I sort of lost count halfway through. Hidden pregnancies, extramarital affairs, prison, drug use, professional deceit, the list continues and continues until it all jumbles up and explodes in dramatic telenovella fashion. But all in all, everybody is still fine because all that counts in American movies is family and a happy ending (and at Christmas, no less). It’s hard to believe that dysfunction on such a grand scale could be swept under the rug. Improbable, but not impossible. Instead of exploiting these tensions, like Noah Baumbach would, or creating a gorgeous, over-the-top melodrama to make a metaphorical point, like Almodóvar, Jones decides to resolve them by tying everything up in a neat, tinsel bow. At the same time, he drops symbolism with such weight I found myself rubbing my head from the resulting ache (a storm announces family troubles, Frank constantly takes photos to capture “picture perfect” moments). Not to say
that the American family can’t overcome obstacles, it’s just hard to
swallow so many at one time. Call a spade a spade, and a soap opera a
soap opera, except you can’t when you have Robert De Niro as the star
and Paul McCartney writing the film’s main song.
Lisa Bernier
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