A reclusive man with unresolved childhood issues returns to his hometown for a parent’s funeral. This is not only the premise underlying Robert Schwartzman’s well-intentioned but understated feature “The Good Half,” but also a recurring underpinning of many melancholy American dramedies, from “Elizabethtown” to “Garden State” to “This Is Where I Leave You.”
To point out this thematic repetition is not necessarily to disparage one of cinema’s most beloved themes – after all, familial grief is one of the most shared and relatable of human pains. And what are movies if not an echo of those experiences? But you still go into a film like The Good Half hoping it will have something of its own to say about the pains of grief. Instead, it feels like a medley of similar (often better) films that have come before it.
“Nobody ever told me that grief feels so much like fear,” C.S. Lewis wrote in his 1961 book A Grief Observed. That quote is never uttered in The Good Half, but the story more or less begins with that fear. The film opens with young Renn Wheeland (Mason Cufari) and his headstrong mother Lily (Elisabeth Shue, doing her best in an underused role) trying to comfort her son, whom she had just forgotten in a mall. In the parking lot, she promises never to leave him in a store again. But Renn demands further assurances. “You’ll never leave me? One hundred percent?” he demands anxiously, unknowingly asking his mother for a lifelong promise she knows she can’t keep.
Fast forward a few decades, and the elder Renn (a distant and low-energy Nick Jonas) finally gets the call he’s dreaded his entire life from his crying sister: “She’s gone.” As Renn makes his way through the airport on his way home to Cleveland, a series of voicemails effectively update the audience on where he’s at. He’s an LA-based writer with a job he doesn’t like but somehow gets a promotion. His sister Leigh (a great Brittany Snow, under-emphasized in the low-key film) could use his help with everything going on. His father Darren (Matt Walsh) has his own luggage, and so on. On the flight, the feisty Zoey (the lovable Alexandra Shipp from “Barbie”) — conveniently a therapist — enters the picture, much like Kirsten Dunst in “Elizabethtown.” With her sharp sense of humor and a talent for quoting Hollywood action one-liners from the ’80s and ’90s, Zoey often brings a light-hearted mood to the film. Shipp’s role, however, comes across as a parade of cliches without much depth. Nevertheless, her character proves to be a welcome presence, keeping Renn company as he navigates his difficult situation with his family.
The drama between relatives also seems entirely mundane. Aside from Renn’s overbearing and overwhelmed sister Leigh—a character Snow portrays with real grit—there’s Lily’s pesky second husband Rick (David Arquette), as well as various awkward moments at funeral parlors, intimate conversations at local bars, and so on. Schwartzman and screenwriter Brett Ryland interweave these present-day scenes with flashbacks to deepen our understanding of Lily. Yet despite Shue’s best efforts, the film doesn’t really convey what makes her so special. The brief trips back in time reveal the course of Lily’s terminal illness, often reiterating that she had amusing quirks as a harmless kleptomaniac (she would sometimes pocket items like a teaspoon from a restaurant). But in its inelegant efforts to mine situational comedy from these awkward memories, the film unfortunately sidesteps real complexities and character revelations.
Schwartzman, like his brother Jason, is a Coppola descendant and a versatile film and music personality (best known as the lead singer of Rooney). He directs The Good Half in a boring, straightforward manner, with no discernible style of his own. Jonas, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have the dramatic muscle to portray the level of underlying vulnerability his character requires. In that respect, he’s often forgettable next to the likes of Shipp and Snow.
Still, The Good Half keeps regaining attention with its occasional humor and nice touches surrounding the supporting characters. A scene between Renn and a clothing store employee (Ryan Bergara), who fondly recalls how Lily once babysat him, is one of those moments in particular that makes you regret that this film could have been better. But what we ultimately get with The Good Half doesn’t feel even half as good.
