This Is Where I Leave You

Assembling a wealth of beloved television stars and siphoning them into an ensemble film about a dysfunctional family: on paper, it sounds like a promising idea. It’s the cinematic equivalent of partying with all your favourite pals, but rounding up a great cast doesn’t always result in a great movie, as This Is Where I Leave You demonstrates. Burdened by the chasm between its talent and material, the brighter the former shines, the more the latter languishes.

Jonathan Tropper’s novel provides the starting point, telling a tale of adult siblings forced to reunite – and rifle through each other’s baggage – under tragic circumstances. The author adapts his own work, combining with director Shawn Levy for a comic touch. That the filmmaker’s resume traverses the broadly based and wildly varying Just Married, Cheaper by the Dozen, Date Night, Real Steel, The Internship and the Night at the Museum franchise provides an indication of the outcome, with This Is Where I Leave You as tonally erratic as Levy’s output. Though the dramatic elements try to resound with sincerity, the recurrent preference for easy comedy and obvious emotion makes for an affable yet awkward and average combination. 

The narrative springs from the passing of the Altman patriarch, drawing his four grown children to their small-town home for the funeral. After the formalities, their mother (Jane Fonda, The Newsroom) announces that his final wish was for his family to observe the Jewish custom of sitting shiva and spending seven days together, a request met with considerable reluctance. Judd (Jason Bateman, Arrested Development) would rather mope over his wife’s (Abigail Spencer, Rectify) infidelity with his boss (Dax Shepard, Parenthood), although perky girl from his past Penny (Rose Byrne, Damages) offers a distraction. Paul (Corey Stoll, The Strain) is battling fertility issues with the baby-obsessed Annie (Kathryn Hahn, Parks and Recreation), who was once Judd’s girlfriend. Phillip (Adam Driver, Girls), perpetually considered irresponsible and reckless, is trying to commit to a mature relationship with his former therapist (Connie Britton, Friday Night Lights). Wendy (Tina Fey, 30 Rock) may be married with kids, but still pines for her teenage love and neighbour (Timothy Olyphant, Justified). 

There’s no escaping the familiarity in This Is Where I Leave You’s themes, content and episodic structure; indeed, August: Osage County, Rock the Casbah and Everybody’s Fine have tackled the same bereaved homecoming territory in recent years, as has The Judge. Every character adheres to a type, and is given issues to own and obstacles to overcome, as well as an allocation of time in the spotlight. The story is scant, personality clashes spawning wisecracks and conflict, with coming of age – at any age – the clearly plotted arc. Sitcom-style revelations and cathartic moments are inevitable and presented as such, as clumsily handled as they are contrived.

‘I’ve spent my whole life playing it safe,’ Judd complains mid feature, a sentiment that rings true of the surrounding film. Clear categorisations and complacent clichés included, from cinematographer Terry Stacey’s (Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day) golden-hued imagery to composer Michael Giacchino’s (Dawn of the Planet of the Apes) mawkish score to editor Dean Zimmerman’s (The Watch) ill-timed cutting, there’s little in the movie that dares to branch beyond the standard and expected. Whilst aiming for warm and wistful wackiness, a pervading air of flatness in look as well as feel is the outcome. 

Instead, eliciting interest is left to the actors, each bringing spark to one-note characters and wringing as much believability as they can out of trite dialogue. Bateman and Fey rightfully monopolise screen time, him showing why he has made such a success career renaissance out of playing the straight man, and her both poignant and bitingly funny. Their castmates continue on in good stead, Olyphant again underplayed and improving everything he is in, Driver and Byrne the best at serving scenes of overt comedy, and Britton imparting a welcome dose of tenderness and complexity. Watching such talent argue and tussle would always be a treat, but deserves something more than just going through the middling motions, which is all the amiable but uninspired This Is Where I Leave You ultimately achieves.

Rating: 2.5 stars out of 5

This Is Where I Leave You
Director: Shawn Levy
US, 2014, 103 mins

Release date: 23 October
Distributor: Roadshow
Rated: M