Our Idiot Brother Review: It’s About Time

Our Idiot Brother is an idealistic parable for a post-ironic generation. Just as transparently earnest as its title character (Ned, played by Paul Rudd), this film aims to resurrect the bygone inner child suffocated by the three-decade-long vein of cynicism tacked on by MTV and sucked dry by world-weary hipsters. It’s a more-than-welcome effort from Director Jesse Peretz (also responsible for the lovely-but-unappreciated First Love, Last Rites), who co-conceived the story with sister Evgenia Peretz before filming it over six weeks in lush, anachronistic adaptations of Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Upstate New York. 

Croc-wearing biodynamic farmer Ned, a well-meaning but naive thorn in his family’s side, can blame his troubles on a woeful lack of direction and common sense. Now in his mid-30s, he’s never had what his mom would consider a “real job,” nor has he delivered her any grandchildren, but she’s needy and pleasant enough to celebrate him in any condition. The same can’t be said for his three sisters Miranda (Elizabeth Banks), Nat (Zooey Deschanel), and Liz (Emily Mortimer), who express their condescension with varying degrees of affection and financial generosity. In the film’s opening scene, Ned makes the mistake of responding compassionately to a uniformed police officer who claims to be stressed out and in need of a couple grams of herbal relief. This wholly avoidable incident lands Ned in a jail cell for months; he must rely on his nuclear family for help after being robbed of his girlfriend Janet (the wonderfully versatile Kathryn Hahn), his livelihood on their farm, and the love of his life- a scruffy, yellow dog named Willie Nelson- upon his return to the outside world. As the tightly-wound Vanity Fair writer Miranda sees it, he’s a child living in an adult world, and it’s futile to expect anything but disappointment from him.

Thankfully, Our Idiot Brother is a story told with a great deal of affection for its protagonist, ensuring that he is never actually shown through the eyes of his ever-present disapproving siblings. Ned’s natural tendency toward raw honesty and forthrightness causes him to create and exacerbate problems in the personal lives and relationships of his sisters, but we remain on his side through every mini disaster. To him, each unfortunate incident is just a “breakdown in communication,” and everyone else should just say what they really mean rather than reverently tip-toe around the arbitrary laws governing social behavior. In a particularly stirring scene toward the end of this otherwise light-hearted comedy, Ned is finally pushed to the brink by his frustration with the cooler-than-thou attitudes surrounding him. He can’t understand why the very same people who find a simple Family Night round of charades impossible to carry off seem to eagerly and effortlessly engage in the much-less-innocent games of polite society on a daily basis. It’s not that he petulantly refuses to grow up. He just sees no compelling reason to exchange his rosy lenses for a bittersweet cup of success granted on the unreasonable terms of a relentlessly deceptive simulacrum. For Ned, the life of a respectable limousine liberal comes with too many strings attached, and he wonders why anyone would even consider taking the deal.

I laughed aloud several times during this movie, appreciating that none of the jokes were too easy, but even more impressive was the overall lack of snark. There was never an occasion to smirk, never an invitation to pat oneself on the back for getting it (if there were any gratuitously erudite observations or too-cute pop culture references, I must have missed them). This lovable film is streets ahead of its contemporaries in that regard, and I admire its ability to try something different at the risk of appearing quaint. Fortunately, what results is far from benign, and I think it’s way more interesting than the monotonous stream of clever drivel emanating from most other small flicks featuring mousy girls in flannel shirts. I freely admit to being annoyed by the overexposure of Deschanel in recent years (what was once refreshing and quirky became stale almost overnight), but here, she’s given much more to do than just play her delightful self, and she handles the task beautifully. The brief-but-effective glimpses into her troubled relationship with live-in lawyer girlfriend Cindy (Rashida Jones, inoffensive as always) offered some of the most compelling moments. Across the board, not enough can be said about the wisdom of the casting department. Rudd, for his part, is allowed to stretch and shine among big talents, not for a moment permitting us to imagine anyone else in the role. The same can be said for the persistently strong Mortimer, whose character slowly and very believably disintegrates at the hands of a hilariously PC philandering husband (Steve Coogan).

The world has been a ball of confusion since anyone can remember, so it seems silly to wish for a less tidy ending to this precious movie. An overall lack of depth would have made its adorable denouement a bit too sweet going down, but the whole thing was just so damn satisfying that we’d be sort of greedy to ask for more.

See it.

Images courtesy of  The Weinstein Company.