Every family is crazy to a certain degree, which I guess explains the popularity of films that portray that dysfunction on the big screen. It's a concept that we've seen time and time again, and it's something that feels like well-worn territory by now. Nonetheless, there was immediate excitement when it was revealed that Noah Baumbach would be tackling a family ensemble piece with The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected). The much-discussed premiere at the Cannes Film Festival (it was controversial because of Netflix, no other reason) put the film on my radar, and even though I wasn't overly familiar with Baumbach's work, early buzz had me curious. The trailer made it look like a more grounded riff on The Royal Tenenbaums, and that definitely has some inherent appeal to me.
Even if Baumbach is discussing familiar topics and utilizing some pretty common archetypes, there's something about The Meyerowitz Stories that elevates it above the rest of the pack. Maybe it's the incredible ensemble, highlighted by tremendous performances from a prickly Dustin Hoffman and a quietly tragic Adam Sandler, with excellent supporting turns from Ben Stiller, Elizabeth Marvel, and Grace Van Patten. Maybe it's Baumbach's script, so smart and witty and truly sad in equal measure, a deft character piece executed to perfection. Or maybe it's the way that this film creates a world that feels both strange and instantly recognizable, slowly drawing you in with a narrative that swiftly alternates between comedy and tragedy with stunning precision. Whatever it may be, The Meyerowitz Stories is an immensely satisfying journey, the kind of genuine indie that could become a sleeper hit in the busy awards season.
The Meyerowitz family, like many others, is a big, sprawling mess. Throughout the course of the story, Baumbach turns his attention to various members of the New York-based clan. There's Danny (Sandler), the lovable loser of the group, who manages to be both earnestly dopey and furiously ill-tempered. His daughter, Eliza (Grace Van Patten), is heading off to a prestigious art college, and Danny is forced to adjust to life without her. Having recently separated from his wife, this proves to be a difficult task. Matthew (Stiller) is Danny's half-brother, and while they pretend to get along, there's a great deal of animosity over who got the most attention as a child. Matthew is living in Los Angeles, and even though he has a son and a wife, his life isn't exactly what everyone thinks. Oh, and there's Jean (Elizabeth Marvel), Danny's sister and the forgotten sibling who often sits quietly on the sidelines.
But at the epicenter of the Meyerowitz universe, there's Harold (Hoffman), the domineering, frustrating, and occasionally cruel patriarch of the family. Harold is a somewhat well known sculptor and artist, and while there's some love for him on the New York circuit as his career fades, he's pretty much considered a failure. Harold's inability to compete with friends and colleagues like L.J. Shapiro (Judd Hirsch) makes him a bitter person to be around, and he successfully destroys most of his relationships. Nonetheless, his children adore him, constantly striving for his love and approval. When Harold falls ill with a potentially life-threatening injury, the disparate factions of the Meyerowitz family will come together, finding a way to reconcile their differences and grievances while coming to understand the man who may have divided them in the first place.
On the surface, The Meyerowitz Stories is one of those films that feels like it would be more suited for the stage. Especially in the opening moments, there's a talky, almost forced conversational nature that feels somewhat awkward. But once Baumbach settles into a groove, the cinematic flourishes of the project are revealed, allowing the film to create its own little world. As mentioned before, I initially thought that The Meyerowitz Stories looked remarkably similar to Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums, and it didn't surprise me to learn that Baumbach had co-written some of Anderson's most popular work. The comparison to Tenenbaums is certainly valid, but this is a vastly different film, one more reliant on subtle character development and quietly affecting pathos than quirky visual tics. Even if that family dramedy is one of Anderson's more grounded films, Baumbach is going for a completely different feel here, crafting a comedic tragedy populated by people who feel all too real.
I can't say enough about how great the ensemble is in The Meyerowitz Stories, how every single performance is calibrated to perfection. Even in a competitive year, I feel like some SAG attention is worth discussing. Dustin Hoffman has been relegated mainly to supporting roles in recent years, so it was supremely satisfying to see the Hollywood icon have the chance to work with such a meaty part. Hoffman's Harold is arguably not even the main character, but his shadow looms over everything in the film. Every supporting character, every emotional beat, every plot development- it all goes back to Hoffman's attention-grabbing central turn. He's able to walk a tricky line as Harold, creating a character where you understand the allure while also despising the way that he has harmed the people around him. Hoffman is hilarious, magnetic, and despicable- a kind of unique trifecta that amounts to a spectacular performance. I know he never really went anywhere, but it was good to see Hoffman working with this kind of character again.
But even though Hoffman is brilliant, he doesn't necessarily give the film's best performance. The fact that Adam Sandler can do great work when he chooses to do so is one of Hollywood's worst-kept secrets, but that doesn't make it any less satisfying to watch. Sandler captures a perfect balance of subdued charm and explosive anger, and while Baumbach often plays this for laughs, there's an unshakable tinge of sadness to his performance. Although most viewers will likely walk away marveling at the tremendous turns from Hoffman and Sandler, the real magic of The Meyerowitz Stories is how the entire ensemble works in a kind of terrific unison. It's impossible to imagine this movie without all of the subtle nuances that the cast brings to the table. Ben Stiller is finding a great niche in this kind of film, playing successful men with deep-rooted problems that can't be solved. Of course, there's Grace Van Patten, who really surprised me as a lovable daughter forced to forge her own path from her father and the family. Emma Thompson is a riot as Harold's perpetually drunk wife (who claims she's never drunk), and Elizabeth Marvel just might be secretly the film's most valuable player.
The cast is essential, but this is ultimately Baumbach's film through and through. And while I knew that The Meyerowitz Stories wouldn't be easily classifiable as a drama or comedy, I didn't expect it to create such a perfect mix of whip-smart humor and deeply moving tragedy. The film doesn't necessarily involve a death (I'll avoid spoilers for anyone who cares), but it almost mirrors the five stages of grief, brilliantly building to a point of acceptance for this dysfunctional family. The tragic arc belongs to Harold, but the story belongs to Danny, and it's his emotional catharsis that we feel most poignantly at the end. All of this dramatic heft is counteracted by Baumbach's penchant for running gags and clever filmmaking, editing and weaving around the most hilarious moments and establishing an offbeat feel. It's rare to strike such a strong balance of contrasting elements, and yet this film does it with ease.
There's a bit of fat that could be trimmed, but Baumbach has mostly made a lean, consistently amusing tragicomedy, a film that exists as further proof of Netflix's devotion to the cinematic medium. It's grounded in a kind of absurdist reality and led by a killer ensemble, something that is all too rare these days. For all of its missteps and slight lulls in momentum, The Meyerowitz Stories packs a surprising punch, and its difficult, unconventional charm builds to create a consistently compelling experience.
THE FINAL GRADE: B+ (7.9/10)
Images courtesy of Netflix
Even if Baumbach is discussing familiar topics and utilizing some pretty common archetypes, there's something about The Meyerowitz Stories that elevates it above the rest of the pack. Maybe it's the incredible ensemble, highlighted by tremendous performances from a prickly Dustin Hoffman and a quietly tragic Adam Sandler, with excellent supporting turns from Ben Stiller, Elizabeth Marvel, and Grace Van Patten. Maybe it's Baumbach's script, so smart and witty and truly sad in equal measure, a deft character piece executed to perfection. Or maybe it's the way that this film creates a world that feels both strange and instantly recognizable, slowly drawing you in with a narrative that swiftly alternates between comedy and tragedy with stunning precision. Whatever it may be, The Meyerowitz Stories is an immensely satisfying journey, the kind of genuine indie that could become a sleeper hit in the busy awards season.
The Meyerowitz family, like many others, is a big, sprawling mess. Throughout the course of the story, Baumbach turns his attention to various members of the New York-based clan. There's Danny (Sandler), the lovable loser of the group, who manages to be both earnestly dopey and furiously ill-tempered. His daughter, Eliza (Grace Van Patten), is heading off to a prestigious art college, and Danny is forced to adjust to life without her. Having recently separated from his wife, this proves to be a difficult task. Matthew (Stiller) is Danny's half-brother, and while they pretend to get along, there's a great deal of animosity over who got the most attention as a child. Matthew is living in Los Angeles, and even though he has a son and a wife, his life isn't exactly what everyone thinks. Oh, and there's Jean (Elizabeth Marvel), Danny's sister and the forgotten sibling who often sits quietly on the sidelines.
But at the epicenter of the Meyerowitz universe, there's Harold (Hoffman), the domineering, frustrating, and occasionally cruel patriarch of the family. Harold is a somewhat well known sculptor and artist, and while there's some love for him on the New York circuit as his career fades, he's pretty much considered a failure. Harold's inability to compete with friends and colleagues like L.J. Shapiro (Judd Hirsch) makes him a bitter person to be around, and he successfully destroys most of his relationships. Nonetheless, his children adore him, constantly striving for his love and approval. When Harold falls ill with a potentially life-threatening injury, the disparate factions of the Meyerowitz family will come together, finding a way to reconcile their differences and grievances while coming to understand the man who may have divided them in the first place.
On the surface, The Meyerowitz Stories is one of those films that feels like it would be more suited for the stage. Especially in the opening moments, there's a talky, almost forced conversational nature that feels somewhat awkward. But once Baumbach settles into a groove, the cinematic flourishes of the project are revealed, allowing the film to create its own little world. As mentioned before, I initially thought that The Meyerowitz Stories looked remarkably similar to Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums, and it didn't surprise me to learn that Baumbach had co-written some of Anderson's most popular work. The comparison to Tenenbaums is certainly valid, but this is a vastly different film, one more reliant on subtle character development and quietly affecting pathos than quirky visual tics. Even if that family dramedy is one of Anderson's more grounded films, Baumbach is going for a completely different feel here, crafting a comedic tragedy populated by people who feel all too real.
I can't say enough about how great the ensemble is in The Meyerowitz Stories, how every single performance is calibrated to perfection. Even in a competitive year, I feel like some SAG attention is worth discussing. Dustin Hoffman has been relegated mainly to supporting roles in recent years, so it was supremely satisfying to see the Hollywood icon have the chance to work with such a meaty part. Hoffman's Harold is arguably not even the main character, but his shadow looms over everything in the film. Every supporting character, every emotional beat, every plot development- it all goes back to Hoffman's attention-grabbing central turn. He's able to walk a tricky line as Harold, creating a character where you understand the allure while also despising the way that he has harmed the people around him. Hoffman is hilarious, magnetic, and despicable- a kind of unique trifecta that amounts to a spectacular performance. I know he never really went anywhere, but it was good to see Hoffman working with this kind of character again.
But even though Hoffman is brilliant, he doesn't necessarily give the film's best performance. The fact that Adam Sandler can do great work when he chooses to do so is one of Hollywood's worst-kept secrets, but that doesn't make it any less satisfying to watch. Sandler captures a perfect balance of subdued charm and explosive anger, and while Baumbach often plays this for laughs, there's an unshakable tinge of sadness to his performance. Although most viewers will likely walk away marveling at the tremendous turns from Hoffman and Sandler, the real magic of The Meyerowitz Stories is how the entire ensemble works in a kind of terrific unison. It's impossible to imagine this movie without all of the subtle nuances that the cast brings to the table. Ben Stiller is finding a great niche in this kind of film, playing successful men with deep-rooted problems that can't be solved. Of course, there's Grace Van Patten, who really surprised me as a lovable daughter forced to forge her own path from her father and the family. Emma Thompson is a riot as Harold's perpetually drunk wife (who claims she's never drunk), and Elizabeth Marvel just might be secretly the film's most valuable player.
The cast is essential, but this is ultimately Baumbach's film through and through. And while I knew that The Meyerowitz Stories wouldn't be easily classifiable as a drama or comedy, I didn't expect it to create such a perfect mix of whip-smart humor and deeply moving tragedy. The film doesn't necessarily involve a death (I'll avoid spoilers for anyone who cares), but it almost mirrors the five stages of grief, brilliantly building to a point of acceptance for this dysfunctional family. The tragic arc belongs to Harold, but the story belongs to Danny, and it's his emotional catharsis that we feel most poignantly at the end. All of this dramatic heft is counteracted by Baumbach's penchant for running gags and clever filmmaking, editing and weaving around the most hilarious moments and establishing an offbeat feel. It's rare to strike such a strong balance of contrasting elements, and yet this film does it with ease.
There's a bit of fat that could be trimmed, but Baumbach has mostly made a lean, consistently amusing tragicomedy, a film that exists as further proof of Netflix's devotion to the cinematic medium. It's grounded in a kind of absurdist reality and led by a killer ensemble, something that is all too rare these days. For all of its missteps and slight lulls in momentum, The Meyerowitz Stories packs a surprising punch, and its difficult, unconventional charm builds to create a consistently compelling experience.
THE FINAL GRADE: B+ (7.9/10)
Images courtesy of Netflix
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