This tech diatribe's real power lies in silence

2014's Men Women & Children is one of those films that didn't do well due to ineffective marketing: apparently many casual observers immediately thought "comedy!", yet while Adam Sandler is the first on the cast list, this is decidedly part of his serious oeuvre, not the side that dwells in wackiness and sophomoric nonsense.  If you lean toward more somber films, don't let Sandler's reputation throw you. He's actually very good in three dimensions, ala Punch-Drunk Love or Spanglish, and this could be an acceptable amuse bouche to his better work. Even better, it's not all about him -- he by no means carries the ensemble, but is part of the team, and the rest of the cast is extraordinary together, offering many reasons to see this movie.

So MW&C is no comedy, but more along the lines of The Spectacular Now and A Birder's Guide to Everything, films of the same trend that feature talented teen actors, serious topics and a big helping of familial angst. There has been a long spate of these films over the last decade, giving young actors better opportunities to hone their craft and add quality credits to their reels and resumes.  But this film, while also seriously flawed, is in some ways a cut above its contemporaries, due largely to an impressive array of dazzling performances and to a series of smart choices (presumably) by director Jason Reitman.  The result is a cohesive journey that challenges the senses, as well as our concepts of ethics, morality, connectedness and more simply, the right thing to do. Here's the trailer:



Jennifer Garner, not always a favorite of mine, is quite effective here: tragic and a little creepy, as the mother who so fears for her beautiful teenage daughter that she obsessively tracks and guards her progeny online, on mobile, as well as IRL. On the opposite side of the spectrum is Judy Greer, an erstwhile starlet turned ambitious stage mom, inadvertently (but not entirely guilelessly) guiding her sexy 15-year-old cheerleader daughter down a dangerous cyberpath that seems to lead to stardom.

Sandler and Rosemarie Dewitt (stunning as ever) are a married couple as completely naive about their mutual malaise as they are about their son's porn consumption.  While they attempt to feel alive again by different yet surprisingly similar means, a seemingly typical jock dad (played by the wonderful Dean Norris) is strong and conflicted as he and his son (Ansel Elgort) cope with the departure of his wife for a seemingly blissful new life in California.  Their pain is tangible, as are Norris' heartbreaking efforts to hide it.  Beautiful performances all.

Other stories dwell in the mix, but aren't as prominent, exploring (rather lightly) anorexia, peer pressure, and all sorts of sexual issues. These include some nice moments from a cast of well-selected actors: notably Elena Kampouris as a young girl with an eating disorder, JK Simmons as her father, and Phil LaMarr, who is genuinely committed to helping Elgort's character through a difficult time. While it would have been nice to see LaMarr's character get an actual name in the credits, it's heartening to see "Shrink" portrayed in such a positive light, as school counselors are essential to some students' survival, and all too often maligned onscreen for no real reason.

While the film has low points (as they all do), one of Reitman's remarkable strengths here is in the score, or in many spots, the lack of one.  The way he uses silence and camera work instead of music makes the moving pieced-together soundtrack even more effective.  This contrast mirrors the daily realities of sound in an ever more tuneful world, where the complete absence of sound can be startling, and it is those crystalline moments when we see most clearly into our own souls.