Catharsis — A Real Pain
Life is hard. I know that goes without saying, but sometimes even that basic acknowledgement goes a long way. It’s how we develop our sense of empathy. Carefree ease only happens for a select few of us as we navigate existence, and even for those privileged individuals, there are certainly bumps in the road. We’re all going through some shit, especially if you’re like me and still reeling from current events, and it only does good to check in on the people you know and love, to see how they’re doing and offer support. Whether it’s a helping hand, a sympathetic ear, or a shoulder ready to be made moist from tears, a crucial aspect of the human experience is the ability and willingness to recognize when someone is hurting, and if you can’t make it better, at least do your best not to make it worse.
This is why a film like A Real Pain is so essential. The sophomore effort from Jesse Eisenberg as a writer and director, the movie debuted to universal acclaim at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, where it won the prize for best screenplay, likely because of its madcap yet earnest examination of how we all cope with our various issues. A small picture with a heart as big as its historical backdrop, Eisenberg and his cast find immense grace through the tragic and comedic process of suffering and healing.
The story is led by Eisenberg and Kieran Culkin as cousins David and Benji. After the death of their Holocaust survivor grandmother, David has used part of his inheritance to arrange a trip for them to Poland to trace their roots and learn more about what she endured. Their dynamic is quickly established by a hilarious opening sequence where David leaves a series of skittish voicemails on his way to the airport to make sure Benji shows up on time to make their flight, only to arrive and be surprised by Benji, who has not only been there since dawn just hanging out and chatting with random passengers, but has also arranged a shipment of marijuana to be waiting for them in Warsaw when they land.
We’ve seen this sort of odd couple setup many times before, where one side is jittery, fastidious, and introverted, while the other is lazy, extroverted, and not afraid of initiating some playful shit-talk. The closest analog would probably be Dante and Randal from Clerks. But even in these brief minutes, you can tell that there’s something more at play. David doesn’t leave these messages just because he’s somewhat neurotic. You can hear genuine concern in his voice, a sense that he needs to micromanage the affair for Benji’s sake, so that he doesn’t fall behind or miss out on their adventure. Similarly, once we meet Benji, Culkin’s delivery is clearly masking something deeper, evidenced by a closeup shot of him sitting at the terminal with a forced smile on his face as the title text pops up to his right (even this small detail is paid off subtly yet incredibly when the film concludes).
When they get to Poland and arrive at their hotel (and Benji picks up his weed shipment; one of the better opening gags is that he never expressly tells David it’s being shipped, leaving the latter to assume he’s going to smuggle it through security while still in New York or through Polish customs), they meet with the rest of their tour group, led by Will Sharpe as James. There’s a retired couple (Liza Sadovy and Daniel Oreskes), divorcee Marcia (an excellent Jennifer Grey), and Eloge (Kurt Egyiawan), who converted to Judaism after surviving the Rwandan genocide and feeling a kinship with the Jewish people. As James warns them, this will be a tour of pain, as they will visit several cultural sites as well as a concentration camp, so everyone has free reign to let their emotions flow and process them however they see fit. Again, just like with David and Benji’s introduction, we can kind of already see how each supporting player will contribute to the journey and what perspectives they offer, but there’s this lingering feeling that none of this will be straightforward.
Things begin predictably enough. Benji inserts himself into every conversation, instantly taking it over with humorous results, while David is left picking up the pieces and apologizing for his behavior. No better is this exemplified than when they visit a large metal monument of soldiers in battle. Not only does Benji want to pose with one of the statues and have David take a picture — which David feels defeats the purpose of the monument’s solemnity, and maybe even insults it — but within moments he’s recruiting the rest of the group, positioning them all over the place and giving them contextual backstories, while David is left juggling everyone’s phones to take photos for the lot. That’s how much of a whirlwind Benji’s personality is. Moments of exuberance like this are instantly juxtaposed with judgmental diatribes when the group sits in a first class train car on the way to their next destination. He has no filter, and you wonder if there’s a degree of confrontational disingenuousness to what he’s doing, but he never stops, because to do so would mean that he has to live inside his own mind for any extended period of silence, something he clearly doesn’t want.
One wonders how David is meant to put up with all this, as they’re clearly two very different people. Some of it can be written off as just accepting the quirks of your family, but it’s obvious something is amiss. The other shoe drops at a restaurant during the boys’ last night on the tour (they’re ducking out a day early to detour to their grandmother’s hometown). After Benji makes another bombastic display of his fractured emotional state, he excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving the rest of the group to finally exhale and offer their praise and condolences to David for tolerating all these shenanigans. It is then that David himself finally releases the dammed up flood of confusion that he’s been feeling this whole time, instantly recontextualizing everything we’ve seen to this point. There’s one line in particular that cut me to the quick and caught me completely off guard. I won’t replicate it here, because you need to see this moment for yourself to get its full impact, but suffice to say, it makes this the best individual scene I’ve witnessed in all of 2024 cinema to date.
From there, everything makes sense. As the action winds down, we in the audience get to reexamine all that we’ve witnessed thus far, as well as gain a new, surprising appreciation for all that’s left to go. We understand the myriad ways in which all of the film’s players process their pain, and learn to move on from their respective histories and traumas. And both in real terms of funny and sad, we genuinely wonder what will become of David and Benji as people rather than characters. Perspectives shift in a way that’s completely unanticipated, and we’re left hopelessly invested in what’s to come for them.
Through all of this, two things remain consistently superlative. The first is Eisenberg’s script, which could have settled for being merely funny while exploring pain in fairly anodyne fashion. Instead, even in the more tried and true moments, Eisenberg finds that unexpected spark of realism where every joke lands and every serious moment feels earned, because he crafts the characters in ways that are instantly and innately recognizable and relatable.
The second is Culkin’s performance. The man has come a long way from his debut in Home Alone (alongside brother Macaulay) where he played the silent Fuller, who notoriously was prone to wet the bed if he drank the product-placed Pepsi. He’s had several great roles, especially in Igby Goes Down and Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, and his time on Succession earned him a Golden Globe, a SAG Award, and an Emmy. This is his finest work yet by a country mile. For every second he’s on screen — and even in the moments where he’s not — his turn as Benji commands you to listen to him, witness him, react to him, and reconcile him with your own sensibilities. He doesn’t so much steal his scenes as the rest of the cast, including Eisenberg, willingly hand them over to the force of his presence. He imbues Benji with limitless boisterous comedic potential and quiet desperation. The simple act of smoking a joint is both life-affirming and devastating, and the more we learn, the more we want to both slap him and hug him, because even though he intentionally makes himself the center of attention at every opportunity, he also makes sure that Benji is an empathetic, sympathetic character who truly cares about others. He’s a perfect foil for David’s more structured life because Culkin goes to such incredible lengths to make Benji into a human Jenga tower, meticulously and strategically put together, but liable to collapse at any moment. If there’s not an Oscar nomination coming for him, then the Academy will have really messed up.
This is easily one of the best films of the year, not because it’s funny, poignant, or entertaining — though it is all three for the entirety of the runtime — but because Jesse Eisenberg and Kieran Culkin have hit upon something we all feel, but rarely are able to properly express. The first of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism is that existence itself is suffering. We’re all aware of it, and part of the reason we live is to figure out how to deal with that suffering, and hopefully escape it, or at the very least manage it and find contentment. Those of us who attain that relief and release are infinitely better for it, but it’s crucial that we remain vigilant and aware, because it can always come back, and there will always be those who need help. The purpose of A Real Pain is that recognition, that acknowledgement, and ultimately that catharsis, in whatever way people are able to manifest it. That understanding is what makes this film more than just a well-made comedy, breaking through to the levels of real profundity, and sending it skyrocketing into the 2024 pantheon. Culkin’s performance is arguably the best of the year, as is Eisenberg’s screenplay, because in a year where we’ve all suffered a great deal, sometimes the most unremarkable moments are what keep us going.
Grade: A
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Originally published at http://actuallypaid.com on November 12, 2024.
