“This Is Where I Leave You”

Susan Granger’s review of “This Is Where I Leave You” (Warner Bros.)

 

Boasting a star-studded cast, this dysfunctional family dramedy finds adult siblings forced to reunite as they mourn their recently deceased father. Predictably, old tensions flare up amid rampant regrets.

Shortly after Judd Altman (Jason Bateman) discovers his wife Quinn (Abigail Spencer) in bed with his boss (Dax Shepard), he’s informed that his father has died and he’s expected to sit ‘shiva’ at their Westchester County home. (In Jewish tradition, ‘shiva’ is a seven-day period of grieving.)  Trying to hide his own problems, he suddenly finds himself embroiled with his sister-in-law Annie (Kathryn Hahn), who is married to his older brother Paul (Corey Stoll) and desperately trying to get pregnant. Meanwhile, his stoner younger brother, Philip (Adam Driver), unexpectedly shows up with a much-older girl-friend, Tracy Sullivan (Connie Britton), who looks startlingly like Hilary Altman (Jane Fonda), the WASPy matriarch who happens to be a renowned child psychologist. Judd’s only confidante is his bossy sister, Wendy (Tina Fey), who is still guiltily conflicted by her past relationship with a brain-injured neighbor, Horry Cullen (Timothy Olyphant). And to compound Judd’s melancholic confusion, he is suddenly confronted with the romantic availability of a former flame, ice-skater Penny Moore (Rose Byrne), just as Quinn arrives unexpectedly to try to patch things up.

Adapted by Jonathan Tropper from his rueful best-seller, it’s directed by Shawn Levy (“Night at the Museum”), who filmed it in a real house on suburban Long Island, New York. The ensemble cast struggles valiantly to rise above what amounts to a simplified, sitcom version of “August: Osage County,” revealing one unhappy secret after another.  But, alas, they stumble over the emotional baggage that lurks around every corner. Not one character has depth, including Judd, who maintains, “I don’t do complicated.” They’re all sappy stereotypes, relating to each other’s foibles with clichés and only a few shreds of authenticity.

On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “This Is Where I Leave You” is an implausibly exaggerated 5, wasting the efforts of so many talented people.

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