The Meyerowitz Stories still

Noah Baumbach’s “The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected),” starring Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller, is like a pair of Crocs: unapologetically comedic from the outside, but profoundly comforting to anyone who would just give them a chance. Audiences are slipping their feet into a film that doesn’t try to be something it’s not. Baumbach doesn’t attempt to hide the fact that he is addressing the conventional question of the mid-life crisis (“What is a life well-lived?”). It is in the nuts and bolts of his film—from the script to the camera to the acting—that he brings a revived gravity to this question.

Opening with a slightly clichéd exploitation of New York City’s lack of parking and a whole lot of witty-ish dialogue between Danny Meyerowitz (Sandler) and his daughter Eliza Meyerowitz (Grace Van Patten), the film is off to a bit of a worrisome start. Even so, the pair snag an impressive number of legitimate chortles before arriving at the home of Danny’s father Harold Meyerowitz (Dustin Hoffman), where several solid Jew jokes about the arts, hummus, and noses establish that this is, thank God, a quality script. Though the character-character exchanges are fast-paced and focus-required, Baumbach keeps the audience on the edge of their seats, wanting to hear the next wisecrack because they’re really just that funny. The viewer can’t really hope to catch them all but somehow knows that this is totally fine, intentional even: From mocking pokes at the endeavors of college artists, especially filmmakers, to almost depressingly true humor about the twisted paths to fulfillment in life, there is more than a little something for everyone.

Sectioned into a series of vignettes, the film first fixates upon Sandler’s dismally middle-aged personage: a freshly-divorced failed pianist with daddy issues. His brother Matthew (Ben Stiller), around whom Baumbach’s second vignette centers, is an unhappy embodiment of society’s definition of success: a rich private wealth manager. As the brothers and their sister recognize just how much damage their father has inflicted, they grapple with the conflict between bitterly blaming him and loving him regardless.

What makes this film different is that it is aware of its clichéd message, but the best part is that its cast knows, too. Their masterful performances make evident their knowledge that it is not what this film communicates that matters, but how it is communicated. Baumbach’s picture is rendered pointedly and painfully true to life by its near-flawless casting. Clearly a passion project for Sandler and Stiller, whose careers seemed to have ended with the snafus that were “Pixels” and “Zoolander 2,” “The Meyerowitz Stories” gains life through the pair’s surprising on-screen chemistry, so much so that the audience might wonder whether they are biological brothers in real life. Not to be overlooked, Hoffman’s intentionally awkward mannerisms and stiff line-delivery make for a beautiful yet frustrating portrayal of a deeply troubled father. And who knew that Emma Thompson, as Harold’s alcoholic third wife, could be so convincingly distasteful yet simultaneously endearing?

The film derives amusement not only with its clever script and excellent acting, but also its visual storytelling. The camera is not only a lens through which the audience watches the story unfold, but also another actor with its own hilarious way of seeing the world. Intermittent still frames from the least expected perspectives and frequent swings between its fellow co-stars in action contribute both to the development of their characters and to that of its own, building upon the foundation of the cast’s already poignant performances.

Baumbach has done it. Amusing, momentous, and amusingly momentous, “The Meyerowitz Stories” leaves the audience chuckling wistfully. Such is life: funny and convoluted and unsatisfying. However, the audience knows this—other films have repeatedly told them so. What is different? Unashamed, Baumbach’s movie marches forth with a sincerity that pulls on heartstrings the audience didn’t know it had.