Perhaps the single most prevalent thesis orbiting the world today is that of sincerity, both in relation to the intimate value we place on it as individuals (however much we do or do not show that to others), and the tragedy with which it’s been disregarded. Every other day, it seems we’re stripping back layer after layer of irony — be it from one person or a wider sentiment/phenomenon — in hopes of getting to an honest place of love and connection.
But that thesis has always been and will always be a universal and relevant one; the innate humanism of it demands as such. This is to say that A Real Pain, the sophomore effort of writer-director Jesse Eisenberg currently playing in theaters, would be the stuff of pure magic in almost any cultural context, but is especially so in the times we’re living in now. Indeed, with a firm finger on the pulse of this quiet-yet-expansive story and a graphically revelatory Kieran Culkin as his co-star and muse, Eisenberg has almost certainly locked his ticket to the next awards circuit, where any nod for A Real Pain would significantly evolve the prestige of the corresponding honor.
A Real Pain stars Eisenberg as David, a straight-laced, anxious Jewish man who reunites with his lively, filterless cousin Benji as they venture to Poland for a heritage tour in honor of their deceased grandmother. As the days go on, tensions begin to rise and fall and rise again on account of their shared family history, and specifically their own relationship.
The whole of Eisenberg’s filmmaking here shows a remarkable understanding of the power and necessity of duality. In David and Benji, you have two protagonists who could not be more different, but there’s also a duality within Benji just on his own that’s both celebratory and elegiac. He’s a carefree one-man party in one scene, and a judgmental pillar of reckless indignance the next. A vessel of great joy and perhaps greater pain, both for himself and his loved ones; such is the reward and price of being tapped into raw emotion, a state of being that Benji advocates for in his every word and action.
Of course, this steadfast balance of joy and pain is exemplified primarily in the context of the film’s genre; dramedy. This is a film that wants to make you laugh and cry, but you could say that about a lot of movies that are littered with lazy contrivances, and even seem annoyed by the fact that they need to include emotion in their stories.
None of those vices are present in A Real Pain. The comedic beats are never clamored for so much as let off the leash by Eisenberg’s and Culkin’s chemistry, while the strongest moments of pathos almost always slither in at the exact moment that you’ve let your guard down (or, at least, can’t get it back up in time). One of the film’s most important scenes (around the midpoint, during a meal), for instance, openly invites you to invest emotionally, but you don’t actually anticipate the proverbial trigger until it’s already been pulled. It’s a masterclass in tension from Eisenberg; one that filmmakers of tomorrow would be wise to study.
To the point of duality, there is a parallel universe out there where Kieran Culkin wasn’t cast as Benji, and that version of A Real Pain is countless steps below the one we got. As one of the most distinctively idiosyncratic actors of his generation, Culkin’s trademark, blunt-force snark loans itself to the rascally Benji immaculately, but the character’s planet-sized tenderness is channeled by a side of Culkin that we aren’t used to seeing; one that proudly bleeds with a love as pure as it is a survival tactic. It’s partly for this reason, perhaps, that Culkin’s performance is so impactful, and the intelligence of this casting cannot be overlooked, nor should Culkin be as the academies of the world gear up to name nominees.
The parallels in the film’s use of space and sound contribute heavily to A Real Pain‘s identity of duality as well. Lively and intimate piano scores decorate the film’s connective tissue, while an otherworldly silence punctuates the picture sparingly (the scene in which the cousins and their group tour the remains of a concentration camp is the foremost example). All the while, David and Benji are swept up in vast, towering Polish landscapes and landmarks, yet their immediate presence is rooted in each other and all the life-changing mundanity they come with.
At the core of A Real Pain‘s triumph, however, is Eisenberg’s storytelling, which thrives quite dizzyingly from both a written and visual perspective. The key word there is “perspective,” not only because such a thing evolves into a prevailing theme within the story, but also because A Real Pain serves up a smorgasbord of interpretations to sink one’s teeth into.
Without giving anything away, time seems to stop during the film’s midpoint when a certain detail is revealed and completely recontextualizes what came before that moment and what will come after that moment. Interestingly, you almost grieve the relative innocence with which you were watching A Real Pain up to this point, but within that grief is a narrative and emotional life that springs in directions you may have never thought possible. Pay attention to what’s going on with David beneath the surface, and consider how he might be trying to cope.
And yet, throughout, A Real Pain never once loses track of its values. Chiefly, those include the importance of headlong love, the longevity of past pain and loss, and how those things show up in the present (which themselves contribute to brand new, present pains; pay attention to how Eisenberg splits the frame into left and right sides, and watch how he fills those spaces so as to have a conversation about our time-specific proximity to pain and trauma).
And, at the end of it all is that exact, aforementioned thesis of sincerity. Indeed, all of these emotions that David and Benji give life to — whatever caused them, whatever they’re attributed to, and however they compare to similar emotions from “greater” or “lesser” sources — are real. Real joy, real pain, and a real damn fine reason to applaud Eisenberg, Culkin, and everyone involved on a job astoundingly done.
Published: Nov 16, 2024 10:37 am