Warning, spoilers for the plot of Good joke.
During most of its brisk 89 minutes Goods is a quiet, sharply observed drama in which not much happens – a father-daughter version of Kelly Reichardt’s Old joy. The film opens with a soothing score, light humor, and evidence of a largely comfortable relationship between father and daughter. Any tension surrounding the brief camping trip to the Catskills that Chris (James Le Gros) and Sam (Lily Collias) take can be explained as typical of the dynamic between a smart college-going teenager and her work-stressed parent. They hike, chat, play card games, and pitch tents with the ease of experienced campers. But an hour into the film, things take an abrupt turn. Goods doesn’t feel like a thriller until a single line of dialogue makes it one.
If something strange had to happen, it was because of Matt (Danny McCarthy, recently seen on Elsbeth And Someone somewhere), a longtime friend of Sam’s father. His teenage son canceled the trip at the last minute, turning a balanced weekend among family friends into a one-sided arrangement that literally and figuratively pushes Sam into the background. Matt, an underemployed actor going through a bitter divorce, is quite a wreck; a well-cooked bowl of ramen can bring him to tears. He admires Sam, often addressing her like an adult and once deeming her “too young to be so wise” – acts of trust that make what Matt says to Sam on their second night together all the more disturbing. Shortly after Matt tells of the breakdown of his marriage, Chris goes to bed. Sam then jokes that Matt might sleep by the campfire to escape the cold of his tent, to which Matt immediately responds, “Unless you come and keep me warm.” Sam’s smile fades and a feeling of dread takes over. A long pause follows, enough time for Matt to rethink his uncomfortable suggestion. But despite the melancholy in his voice, he stands his ground: “Yeah, it’s not fair that your father gets an extra body.” The camera lingers on Sam’s face as she meekly says she’s going to put out the fire and go to bed. It’s a sickening scene, and that’s exactly what Collias experienced during filming.
Lily Collias (left) and director India Donaldson (right) on the set of Good joke.
Photo: Metrograph
Debut filmmaker India Donaldson, who wrote and directed Goodsdesigned the film with that moment in mind. The question was where to put it. “I really wanted to give the audience a chance to be with these people and get to know all three of them, and kind of reverse a traditional inciting incident,” says Donaldson. “Instead of one incident influencing everything that comes after, it’s almost as if the incident reframes or complicates everything that came before it.”
Suddenly, little things Matt said before the campfire conversation become a little awkward, like when he asked Sam about her “nature pee” – probably not something you want your dad’s middle-aged friend to comment on. Or when he mentioned Sam’s sexuality and suggested that being a lesbian might ward off male attention. Still, Donaldson wasn’t interested in painting Matt as a villain. In her eyes, his offer to Sam isn’t premeditated. It’s much more convoluted, the ramblings of a lost soul desperate for connection. Donaldson continues to harbor a lot of affection for Matt, and her goal was to avoid a “one-dimensional hurt” from an archetypal bad man.
“Sam’s tremendous ability to listen – to really listen – also makes her vulnerable in that moment,” says Donaldson. “Matt feels held and cared for by her, even though that is not her responsibility. In that moment, he confuses feelings of closeness, warmth and intimacy with desire or attraction. It’s an instinctive moment of self-sabotage.”
Danny McCarthy as Matt (left) and Lily Collias as Sam (right).
Photo: Metrograph
The exchange between Sam and Matt takes place in the final ten pages of Donaldson’s script, despite there being 25 minutes of the film left. The rest is dialogue-light, Sam processing what happened as she strolls through the wilderness on her last morning. It’s as if she’s been forced to grow up overnight, which includes deciding whether to tell Chris what happened. When she does, his reaction further undermines Sam’s peace of mind. “Come on, can’t we just have a nice day?” he asks, interpreting Matt’s advances as a lack of preparation for the mountain climate. The scene originally featured a lengthy conversation between Sam and Chris, which Donaldson cut in editing the film to make Chris’s refusal more apparent.
In total Goods is less about sexual harassment than about a young person facing new disappointments at a moment of transition in her own life. Growing up means having to live with the complexities of parents as they appear in a new, sometimes unflattering light. When Sam tells Chris that they can drop the subject and “have a nice day,” she is fulfilling multiple roles, some of which are beyond her years. Donaldson describes her as an obedient daughter, therapist, mother, and object of desire all at once.
Donaldson felt it was important to see Sam fight back in her own way; hence the rocks she deposits in Chris and Matt’s backpacks as silent revenge. “She has a sense of humor, and it’s almost poetic,” says Donaldson. “Whether she thinks it explicitly or not, she instinctively understands in that moment, I’ve carried all your crap and emotional baggage for three days. I’m giving you some weight to carry.” The retribution is a reminder of Sam’s wisdom, a sign that she will be fine when she leaves home and begins her own adult life. In fact, she may already be more grown up than the adults she spends time with.
The stones restore the subtle sense of humor Goods‘s opening moments. They also allow for a foreshadowing when the trio begins their drive back to New York City. Wordlessly, Chris places one of the stones on the car’s dashboard, which Donaldson and Collias interpret as an acknowledgement of Sam’s point of view. (Collias kept it as a souvenir.) He seems to say: I heard you and we will talk about it at homeHe has accepted the punishment of his heavy backpack and is meeting it with a peace offering. Collias explains: “The rock on the dashboard for me is him patting Sam on the shoulder and saying: ‘Okay, that was good.'”
