We’ve all met someone like Benji (Kieran Culkin). While charismatic and freewheeling, entering every room as if he’s performing at the Comedy Store, he’s also thin-skinned, obnoxious, and prone to angry tirades. He smokes weed to maintain some stability, drinks too much at restaurants, and spreads his joy and pain like a disturbed uncle at a family reunion. Now, imagine if you went on a Holocaust tour with him. That’s the basic premise of Jesse Eisenberg’s sophomore film, A Real Pain, which tackles generational trauma with the kind of winsome, shaggy touch you’d expect from the Oscar-nominated actor (The Social Network), who’s like a nerdier version of Albert Brooks. Highly lauded at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, A Real Pain is a stripped-down, laissez-faire dramedy that combines weighty material and a massive performance by Culkin, but struggles to stay afloat.
The movie opens on David (Jesse Eisenberg) meeting his cousin Benji at the airport, where they’ll fly to Poland to join a Holocaust history tour while also visiting the birthplace of their recently deceased grandmother, a Holocaust survivor. Although they were close at one time, the cousins have grown apart; Benji is volatile but open-hearted and unrestricted, David is repressed, insecure, and anxious. Their lives have taken divergent paths as well. Benji lives in someone’s basement and juggles odd jobs, while David works for a successful software company and supports a family.
In Poland, the two are forced to contend with each other as well as with fellow tour members. “This will be a tour of pain,” cautions their guide, James (Will Sharpe). David heeds this warning; Benji, not so much. After Benji embeds himself in the group like he’s partying in Spring Break, David emotionally retreats, finding his cousin’s behavior inappropriate. He’s not wrong — Benji is a knotted ball of toxic energy, and an incredible annoyance. Perhaps Eisenberg is trying to show that David’s reticence and Benji’s raucousness are two sides of the same coin, maybe traits of inherited anguish. But Benji outdoes his cousin in portraying this by miles. When he’s not usurping everyone’s attention (on a Holocaust tour!), he has numerous public meltdowns, including one during which he ruthlessly shames everyone for riding first class on the same route that transported their families to the camps, and another where he needlessly berates their tour guide. Benji never shows an ounce of remorse for his malignant behavior, and is completely oblivious when he’s reminded of it.
Although it’s common for filmmakers to withhold information to create a sense of ambiguity, it feels odd to do so with a protagonist who holds the key to the film’s subtext.
Although Benji’s mood swings are the emotional core of the story, and the driving engine of the narrative, Eisenberg, strangely, doesn’t give them a convincing context or justification. At times, Benji displays a sweet side, rallying everyone to take pictures in front of monuments or unexpectedly embracing David as they walk through Poland. But these flashes of sincerity are overshadowed by his dark side. His unexplained issues might be played for laughs — it’s actually hard to tell — but it’s more disturbing than comic. For long stretches, we simply wait for another manic meltdown, which creates a paranoia that courses through the film like strychnine. Between some engaging moments, this aptly titled film can be a grating experience that rips us out of the more subversive elements of the story. At one point, I wondered why I wasn’t connecting with Benji on a more personal level, instead of feeling that I was being forced to watch a millennial version of Vince Vaughn in Made, a cavalier jerk mucking up an important mission.
The movie works best when it loosens the grip on the main plot and gives us room to engage with other characters, and with Poland’s elegiac backdrop. The tour includes some fascinating characters, including a recent divorcée (Jennifer Grey), a retired couple (Liza Sadovy and Daniel Oreskes), and a Rwandan who converted to Judaism (Kurt Egyiawan). Their reactions to their surroundings, not to mention to Benji, give the film a quiet authenticity. There is also a fantastic dinner scene in which David falls apart, allowing us a little insight into his inner conflicts. As a director, Eisenberg has a deft and refined approach to Poland’s Jewish history. Capturing the tour on a naturalistic level, he pulls us into a headspace where history and trauma manifest, confidently framing locales where unimaginable atrocities occurred without relying on musical cues or tired cliches. It’s a difficult feat that he pulls off seamlessly. The movie does somewhat find its footing toward the third act, when David and Benji are able to connect more personally, although these moments feel slightly forced and lacking in authenticity.
Overall, the movie simply falls short of packing the emotional punch the plot requires. The main problem is Eisenberg’s choice to keep Benji at such an untouchable distance. We can’t understand him, nor are we given permission to try. Although it’s common for filmmakers to withhold information to create a sense of ambiguity, it feels odd to do so with a protagonist who holds the key to the film’s subtext. Eisenberg had a similar problem in his first film, When You Finish Saving the World, which also portrayed shallow, unlikable characters without an explanation. We’re simply supposed to accept them as they are, and not ask any questions.
Culkin, though, is fantastic. Coming off a much-deserved Emmy win for his role in Succession, he wrings every last drop of emotion from a role that is mostly one-dimensional: If there’s a correlation between Benji’s short temper and generational trauma, it’s presented tenuously at best. Eisenberg does try to make up for this void by examining different shades of Benji’s personality later in the film (mostly with a weak backstory), but it’s too late, we’re too numb to care.
It’s nearly impossible not to compare this movie with Alexander Payne’s Sideways. Though the latter takes place in wine country and not on a Holocaust tour, obviously lowering the stakes, they exist in the same rarefied world: The road trip, buddy dramedy showcasing two disparate personalities. The difference is in the filmmakers’ approaches. While Payne examines his broken characters without an ounce of shyness, Eisenberg tiptoes, possibly worried about what he’ll find. His caution doesn’t bode well for the story. Even if his purpose is to make us feel existentially disconnected, we yearn to understand these guys, not observe them like specimens in a controlled environment.
Although Benji’s slight characterization keeps the movie from reaching any kind of transcendence, it’s still a crisply paced and ultimately embracing journey into history, pain, and how we contextualize those things in our daily existence. Eisenberg’s a good filmmaker who has a strong sense of comic timing and a genuine interest in fractured people, he just needs to color in between the lines a little. If Benji just gave us a moment’s peace, this could’ve been a more engaging and enlightening ride, instead of one where the bumps throw us off course and make us dizzy. ❖
Chad Byrnes has been a film critic for the L.A. Weekly and the Village Voice for six years. He lives in Los Angeles.