Tag Archives: This Is Where I Leave You

Freaky Twin Stuff

The Skeleton Twins

by Hope Madden

I once trapped myself down my vacationing neighbors’ basement, having let myself in to snoop around and then snagging my hair inside a piece of exercise equipment. The other neighborhood rugrats who’d accompanied me on this B&E left me there to die. But my twin sister marched next door to our dad and said, “Come with me. Bring your tools.”

Why? Because twins have each other’s backs. We have no choice.

That nugget of wisdom and others – like the healing power of Halloween costumes and terrible 80s pop songs – fuel the surprisingly intimate and articulate indie flick The Skeleton Twins.

Kristin Wiig and Bill Hader co-star as estranged twins reunited under tough circumstances. Their strained relationship slowly, sloppily warms as they remember how uniquely and irreversibly bound they are to each other.

The premise has overwrought family dramedy written all over it, and in the wrong hands it could have been August: Osage County or even This Is Where I Leave You. But there’s nothing profound or obvious about Skeleton Twins. It unveils its damage as necessary, tidies up nothing, explains little – so basically, it looks just like family.

This must be partly credited to the writing team of Mark Heyman (Black Swan) and Craig Johnson (who also directs). They refuse to bold face the problems or solutions, preferring instead a more lived-in and recognizable world where pain and emotional need aren’t chalked immediately up to one cause or remedied with one solution. And they don’t judge, which is important because I don’t think these people could withstand that. They’re much too hard on themselves to begin with.

Mainly, though, the success of Skeleton Twins is owed to its leads. Kristin Wiig channels some of the same woebegone tone she used to create her first memorable dramatic character in this year’s Hateship Loveship. Her battle with self-loathing is quietly complicated and deftly crafted.

Bill Hader, though, is the reason to see the film. His turn is filled with vulnerability, humor and wisdom. He gives the human experience of the film its pulse.

Predictably, he and Wiig share obvious chemistry and a great rapport. Luke Wilson’s earnest good guy is the perfect, heartbreakingly goofy offset to the cynical twosome.

There are a lot of laughs here, but the emotion is dark and usually honest. This season will bring us grand strokes of drama aimed at nabbing Oscar, but right this minute, be glad for the intimate little treasures like The Skeleton Twins.

And stay out of your neighbor’s basement.

Verdict-4-0-Stars

Save it for When You’re Sick

This Is Where I Leave You

by Christie Robb

You’ve probably seen it before: a broken man forced by circumstance to return to his family home and reconnect with the life he had before, somehow, it all went awry. But you probably haven’t seen it with such enormous fake tits.

This Is Where I Leave You is as familiar and unchallenging as a bowl of chicken soup. Shawn Levy’s adaptation of the book by Jonathan Tropper places the spotlight on Jason Bateman’s Judd, a sad-sack who actually sits down for a breath and watches while his boss bones his wife on their marital bed. While couch surfing and growing out his obligatory beard of depression, he receives a phone call from his sister (Tina Fey) informing him that his father has died. His last request: that the kids sit shiva together for a week.

The family gathers with attendant significant others and kidlets and are encouraged by their oversharing, breast-enhanced mom (Jane Fonda), to let it all hang out and really get into the grief.

Like the bowl of chicken soup, you know exactly what you are going to get when you start. Family brawls. Run-ins with old loves. Finding dad’s secret stash of weed… You can ease into a nap worry-free. You’ll be able to figure out what happened before you dig the sleep crusties out of your eye creases.

The ensemble cast works to provide a little spice to an otherwise bland dramedy. Adam Driver (Girls) is great as the black sheep baby of the family and steals every scene that he’s in with a manic, fresh delivery and moments of puppy dog eyed sincerity. His interactions with the rabbi (Ben Schwartz from Parks and Recreation) who cannot shake his childhood nickname, Boner, are particularly delightful.  But the talent mostly drowns in the soppy sentimentality and same-ness of it all.

I’m not saying the flick isn’t worth seeing. Just watch it at home nestled in a blanket, coughing out a lung  with a bottle of NyQuil at your side.

Verdict-2-5-Stars