Now some advice for moviegoers: this film sounds as if it has all the elements of a delicious family comedy. But beware: Dan in Real Life has bitten off more than any one movie can chew. Rather than embrace the film’s natural direction, screenwriter and director, Peter Hedges, attempts something that almost always backfires – forcing the film into a cliché. Dan in Real Life has all the ingredients to be a shoe-in commercial success. Why wasn’t it as wildly funny as Carell’s other deadpan comedies, such as “The Office?” It has a star-studded cast and it had a considerable production budget, but the problem lies within the lack of direction.
Dan in Real Life loses proverbial points on both the mainstream and alternative fronts, by not committing to either one. The Indie-loving crowd will note the lack of cinematography and predictability of the plot. Every pivotal scene was glossed over, in hopes of making it more palatable. Scenes were filmed causally, striving for Indie-credibility—to make it seem that ‘real life’ was unfolding. The camera rarely pivots, instead offering a large, un-hurried single scene with various characters cross-stepping in and out of the frame. Any plot problems appear to be resolved behind the scenes; so rather than focus on what is shown, one begins to crave an angle change and emotional sincerity.
Initially, the movie throws a plot curveball, unveiling that Dan is in love with his brother’s girlfriend. At least by mixing in an unexpected love triangle, it crafts a collage of trite plot scenarios to entertain us. This pastiche of passé pains viewers with its predictability, but offers an ironic twist to the trailer’s tagline: “Get Ready to Be Surprised.” Obvious outcomes include Dan’s fate with “Maria, the-woman-from-the-bookstore,” who he dances with while the credits role. No one pities his brother, Mitch, who originally loved Maria. Characters are underdeveloped; Mitch crafted to act as a barrier. His role was to delay a predictable conflict-resolution, not to be a brother. Rather than portray real-life disappointment, the scenes reach the midpoint between fixed and fabricated. Dan’s widowhood and subsequent parenting struggles feel stale. Only a hint of life’s flavors, with none of the unpleasant aftertastes, diminish the richness one has come to expect with Indie visions, such as Hedges’ Pieces of April.
In contrast to Hedges’ debut film, featuring April’s struggle to survive family Thanksgiving, Dan in Real Life’s problems are resolved – mess unseen, feelings unhurt. But, real life is never so simple. Sometimes we crave this unrealistic film style; escapism remains popular for commercialized mass audiences, but motion-picture fans will be unenthused as the story unfolds in a simple single location— the Burn’s Rhode Island house. Costumes are made to look as if no-name actors are donning their own clothing, which to the viewer must feels dishonest.
Because the interactions of the Burns family are disengaged, so is the viewer. The sticky situations of the plot are presented with sugarcoating, void of earnest reaction. When his youngest daughter says, “you are a good father, but sometimes a bad dad,” a coy smile spreads over Dan’s otherwise apathetic mug. Then, as cheerful indie acoustic saturates the scene, he asks: “which one of your sisters told you to say that?” The reaction feels, if not surreal, then disconnected. Which renders embedded symbols of classic family life—the iconic red minivan, wide-knit cable sweaters, and mix-matched sheets—useless.
Yet, certain scenes paint the Burn’s family as a one we rarely encounter and are willing to join. Carell joked in an interview: “if you pay the actors enough, you can join us and be a member of the Burns family.” A family, where in one scene, Dan’s teenage daughters roll out of bed early to join their relatives for a group-workout, followed by hot-off-the-griddle pancakes.
But wait, wasn’t this a movie about family-dysfunction? Actually, it’s a little bit of everything, but ultimately nothing nearly as powerful as the movies that successfully bridged the gap between mainstream and alternative thought waves, such as Little Miss Sunshine. In that tale, something feels real; it is the type of moving human comedy that Dan in Real Life desires to replicate. The formula is followed: Dan drives an ancient car on a quasi-road-trip, a young girl delivers a few power lines, the script is written so you want to route for the featured family. The difference: Little Miss Sunshine is less formulaic, less posed, and less transparent with its goals. Chemistry between the Burn family members is lacking; it quickly becomes a shadowy attempt to recreate the sunny magic.
Dan In Real Life’s sentimental acoustic soundtrack is incredibly helpful in moving the mediocre toward something a little more meaningful—it seems earnest. Until a fan goes to purchase Sondre Lerche’s music and discovers it bundled as a merchandise package tied directly to Dan in Real Life; then it is revealed as a part of this poorly executed commercial ploy.
