You grow older. But so does everyone else in your family. The small people who were your little brother and sister, the big people who were Mom and Dad - they all grow up and have their own lives, their own families. The world sees you as an adult with children of your own, problems that are real, concerns that completely outside and removed from this group you have known since infancy. Your family sees you as the kid who fought with your sister, and dated the class loser. And when you congregate, you realize that while your baby shoes don't fit you anymore, you're not sure what does. Neither does anyone else.
Ann Bancroft as the penultimate Mom is a jewel, pulled between her love of her family, her need to support them, her incomprehension of who they have become, and her own strong will. Robert Downey is fabulous as the manic family clown, not knowing when to stop, not knowing how to protect his closely held secret. Geraldine Chaplin steals your breath (Literally!) as the dotty maiden aunt who uses her eccentricities as a shield against the disappointments of her life. Her soliloquy is perfect. Holly Hunter is wonderful as the eldest daughter, her world in tatters around her feet, looking for and not finding comfort within the confines of her family. Cynthia Stevenson is perfect as the angry middle child, left out and feeling betrayed by her oh so much more exciting siblings. Charles Durning is the father at peace with the world and himself, wondering what all the fuss is about. And Dylan McDermott is the supreme observer, wanting to be part of their lives, looking for a way in to the circle, allowing everyone their dignity, giving them permission to laugh at their absurdities.
In spite of all this, or maybe because if it, this film is funny. It could be your own sister, your own mother. There is a wondrous joy here, a happiness that family, at least, is predictable.
Jodie Foster did an incredible job of showing the humor, drama, poignancy, frustration, love, loathing, fear, and comfort found in families. As exhausting as these two days were for this family, you know they'll be back next year. Or, as Charles Durning's character says, "There's always Christmas".
Ann Bancroft as the penultimate Mom is a jewel, pulled between her love of her family, her need to support them, her incomprehension of who they have become, and her own strong will. Robert Downey is fabulous as the manic family clown, not knowing when to stop, not knowing how to protect his closely held secret. Geraldine Chaplin steals your breath (Literally!) as the dotty maiden aunt who uses her eccentricities as a shield against the disappointments of her life. Her soliloquy is perfect. Holly Hunter is wonderful as the eldest daughter, her world in tatters around her feet, looking for and not finding comfort within the confines of her family. Cynthia Stevenson is perfect as the angry middle child, left out and feeling betrayed by her oh so much more exciting siblings. Charles Durning is the father at peace with the world and himself, wondering what all the fuss is about. And Dylan McDermott is the supreme observer, wanting to be part of their lives, looking for a way in to the circle, allowing everyone their dignity, giving them permission to laugh at their absurdities.
In spite of all this, or maybe because if it, this film is funny. It could be your own sister, your own mother. There is a wondrous joy here, a happiness that family, at least, is predictable.
Jodie Foster did an incredible job of showing the humor, drama, poignancy, frustration, love, loathing, fear, and comfort found in families. As exhausting as these two days were for this family, you know they'll be back next year. Or, as Charles Durning's character says, "There's always Christmas".