‘Goodrich’ leaves Keaton stranded in mediocrity
It’s 2024, so why is Michael Keaton partying like it’s 1989? Got me. But at this stage in his illustrious career, it’s odd that his most recent movies are a sequel to 1988’s “Beetlejuice” and a quasi-reboot of 1983’s “Mr. Mom” rechristened “Goodrich,” in which he plays a harried dad unexpectedly thrust into being a “mother” to his 9-year-old twins.
Not only are both films beneath him, but they also reek of desperation, causing you to wonder if the opportunities are becoming too scarce for the 73-year-old. Whatever the reason, it’s disheartening to see the “Spotlight” star saddled with material as badly written as the moribund “Goodrich.” There is no arguing that he does wonders acting out director Hallie Meyers-Shyer’s cliched script. But it’s no less depressing.
Nothing about it feels authentic or revelatory. I mean, how many septuagenarians are rearing 9-year-olds? And doing it inside an opulent hilltop manse providing a lovely view of L.A.? Good luck relating. In this day and age of housing shortages and stagnant incomes, it’s literally a bit rich asking us to root for some moneybags having a late-life meltdown like his Andy Goodrich. Especially when his “crisis” is triggered by a much, much younger trophy wife (Tony-winner Laura Benanti) who’s just checked herself into a snazzy Malibu rehab center.
The gist is that Andy has been so busy struggling to keep his art gallery afloat that his wife’s growing addiction to pills has completely escaped his notice. If that didn’t stretch credulity enough, Meyers-Shyer goes even further by expecting us to believe that he doesn’t learn of his spouse’s predicament until “after” she’s checked in and delivers the news via a phone call that she’s dumping him and their two kids. Mom of the year she’s not. And this is before the opening credits!
What ensues is exactly what’d you expect, as Andy bumbles and fumbles attempting to feed the twins (Vivien Lyra Blair and Jacob Kopera) and get them to school on time. It’s right out of “Kramer vs. Kramer,” which Meyers-Shyer cites – along with “Terms of Endearment” – as her inspiration for writing “Goodrich.” Perhaps she should have aimed a little lower than trying to emulate a couple of multiple Oscar winners.
An even more urgent problem is her inability to properly pace a film that is clumsily scrambling between a half-dozen story threads. It’s all too much, not to mention highly predictable. I was prophesying each twist right down to when Andy’s daughter from another marriage, Mila Kunis’ Grace, would have her water break. Yes, it’s right after she’s finished chewing him out over how one-sided their relationship has been over the past 36 years.
Not that Andy hasn’t tried. It’s more that any goodwill he’s extended toward Grace has been transactional. Like attending a breathing workshop with her in the home of a woman (Carmen Ejogo) he’s busy lobbying to sell acclaimed paintings by her late mother, pieces he’s certain will rescue his gallery from bankruptcy. He’s also not above inconveniencing Grace by guilting the expectant mom into dropping her plans at the last minute to sit for her half-siblings.
To their credit, Keaton and Kunis display potent chemistry. And had “Goodrich” limited itself to exploring and reconciling their tenuous relationship, it might have been passable. But it’s just the opposite, as Meyers-Shyer – the daughter of Nancy Meyers and Charles Shyer, the makers of “Father of the Bride” – jettisons Kunis for long stretches to shoehorn in such silliness as Andy being lusted after by the gay dad (Michael Urie) of one of the twins’ pals. Clunky is an understatement.
Ditto for the cheesy generation-gap gags, such as screening “Casablanca” for the twins on movie night, or dressing them up as Andy Warhol and Frida Kahlo on Halloween. Andy, natch, adds to the effect by sporting a Dali mustache. Are you laughing yet? That’s what passes for humor in a film that causes whiplash with its rapid shifts between light and heavy.
Never does the story draw you in to the point that you care one iota about any of the array of quirky characters, which also include Grace’s impossibly sweet and understanding hubby, Pete (Danny Deferrari), and Andy’s first wife, Ann (Andie MacDowell). Both are so vastly underwritten and inconsequential that if you blink you might miss them. The best that can be said about “Goodrich” is that at least it’s better than Meyers-Shyer’s first turn behind the camera, the insipid “Home Again” in which Reese Witherspoon played a recent divorcee inviting three strangers to stay in her Beverly Hills guesthouse.
Both films scream “nepo baby,” as you ask yourself if either would have seen the light of a projector had the writer-director not been born to prominent parents. Add that to the overload of wealth porn and you can’t help but be a little put off. But the most alienating aspect of “Goodrich” is its misuse of Keaton. He deserves better than this rote, coming-of-golden-age rot which is neither good nor rich.
Movie review
Goodrich
Rated: R for language
Cast: Michael Keaton, Mila Kunis, Carmen Ejogo, Laura Benanti, Kevin Pollak, Michael Urie, Andie MacDowell, Vivien Lyra Blair and Jacob Kopera
Director: Hallie Meyer-Shyer
Writer: Hallie Meyer-Shyer
Runtime: 111 minutes
Where: In theaters Oct. 18
Grade: C-
