A reserved man with some unresolved childhood issues returns to his hometown for the funeral of one of his parents. This is not just the central premise of the film. Robert SchwartzmanThe well-intentioned but timid feature of “The good half”, but also a recurring base on which many American melancholic drames have been built, from “Elizabethtown” to “Garden State” and “This Is Where I Leave You”.
Pointing out this thematic repetition need not necessarily be a way of disparaging one of cinema’s favorite themes: after all, family grief is one of the most shared and relatable of human pains. And what are movies if not an echo of those experiences? But still, you go to a movie like “The Good Half” hoping that it has something of its own to say about the pain of grief. Instead, it simply turns out to be a mishmash of similar (often better) movies that came before it.
“No one ever told me that grief was so much like fear,” C.S. Lewis wrote in his 1961 book of reflections, “A Grief Observed.” This quote isn’t mentioned anywhere in “The Good Half,” but the story more or less begins on that scary note. The film opens with young Renn Wheeland (Mason Cufari) and his idiosyncratic mother Lily (Elisabeth Shue, doing her best in an unscripted role) as she tries to comfort her son, whom she has just forgotten in a shopping mall. In the parking lot, she promises she will never leave him in a store again. But Renn demands further assurances. “Will you never leave me? One hundred percent?” he wants to know anxiously, unconsciously asking his mother to make him a lifelong promise that he knows she can’t keep.
A couple of decades later, the elder Renn (a distant, low-energy man) Nick Jonas) finally gets the call he’s been dreading his whole life, from his sister crying, “She’s gone.” As Renn makes his way through the airport to return home to Cleveland, a series of voicemails effectively inform the audience of how things stand for him. He’s a writer living in Los Angeles and has a bill-paying job he doesn’t like, but is somehow earning a promotion at. His sister Leigh (an excellent Brittany Snowneglected by the timid film) might need her help with everything that’s been going on. Her father Darren (Matt Walsh) has his own baggage, and so on. On the plane ride, spirited Zoey (the endearing Alexandra Shipp of “Barbie”) — conveniently, a therapist — enters the scene much like Kirsten Dunst in “Elizabethtown.” With a keen sense of humor and a knack for quoting 1980s and ’90s Hollywood action one-liners, Zoey often infuses the film with a sunny disposition. But Shipp’s role nonetheless feels like a parade of clichés without much depth. Still, her character proves a welcome presence, lending Renn company as she navigates her complicated situation with her family.
The drama between relatives also seems entirely stock. Aside from Renn’s overbearing, overwrought sister Leigh (a character Snow plays with real ferocity), there’s Lily’s annoying second husband, Rick (David Arquette), along with various moments of shyness at funeral homes, intimate encounters at local bars, and so on. Schwartzman and screenwriter Brett Ryland interlace these present-day scenes with flashbacks in an attempt to deepen our understanding of Lily. But despite Shue’s best efforts, the film doesn’t really convey what makes it distinctive. Brief trips back in time reveal the progression of Lily’s terminal illness and often reiterate that she had amusing quirks as a harmless kleptomaniac (she would sometimes pocket items like a restaurant teaspoon). But in its inelegant efforts to unearth situational humor from those clunky flashbacks, the film unfortunately sidesteps real complexities and character revelations in the process.
Schwartzman, a Coppola descendant like his brother Jason and a multifaceted film and music personality (best known as Rooney’s lead singer), directs “The Good Half” in a bland, straightforward manner, with no discernible style of his own. Jonas, for his part, doesn’t seem to have the range of dramatic muscles necessary to achieve the level of understated vulnerability his character demands. In that sense, he’s often forgettable next to the likes of Shipp and Snow.
Still, “The Good Half” does regain attention from time to time with its occasional humor and its funny notes about its supporting characters. A scene between Renn and a clothing store clerk (Ryan Bergara) who fondly recalls how Lily once looked after him is especially one of those moments that make you regret what a richer movie it could have been. But what we ultimately get with “The Good Half” doesn’t even feel halfway good.