A Real Pain Movie Review – InBetweenDrafts

Jesse Eisenberg delivers a story tethered to the human condition of longing for something “else” or “more” in the triumphant A Real Pain. Directed, written, and starring Eisenberg, the film perfectly balances dry humor and understated, character-driven drama. At a well-paced 90 minutes, the story never overstays its welcome. Instead, the story succeeds because, despite its brevity, it streamlines a beautifully executed narrative that needs no more or less than what it’s being given. 

A Real Pain follows David (Eisenberg) and Benji (Kieran Culkin), two cousins who could be mistaken for brothers for how closely they grew up together. However, despite being born mere weeks apart, they’re polar opposites. Despite this, they share an often exasperated fondness for one another—with David, in particular, keeping a watchful eye out for Benji. In order to honor their late grandmother, the two embark on a tour of Poland to explore their family history while paying their respects at their grandmother’s childhood home. 

There’s a simplistic, linear structure to the film that could easily be mistaken as dull. But the rapid-fire dialogue and meditations on life and losses embolden the otherwise straightforward story with unexpected vigor. Eisenberg and cinematographer Michał Dymek shoot everything from the bustling airport to the Polish countryside with grace as we move forward along with these characters. 

However, while the direction is confident and observational, especially when highlighting the magnitude of emotions Culkin’s face bears while still withholding, the writing pulls it all together. The script is simply remarkable in its conscious depiction of vulnerability that’s almost too raw to watch. Eisenberg’s script feels personal, even if it’s fictional, and it’s best seen in the relationship between Benji and David. 

Despite his constant proclamations of how much he loves his cousin, how close they are, and how integral David is in his life, Benji is quick to punch down and belittle. He tells David that no one likes to walk alone when talking about another traveler, yet leaves him in the dust to speak with her instead. He calls out his insecurities in public while telling him that he has no problem with his cousin’s shortcomings. Eisenberg captures the grind of it, shoulders hunching further and further as he either apologizes for Benji’s behavior or watches in amazement as Benji somehow pulls off being a brazen ass with little consequence. 

And that’s because as impulsive and self-righteous Benji is, so many of his tirades have just enough truth to make them justifiable. Even while so many of us would shrink away from the kind of conflict he so vigorously chases, we can’t deny that he comes from a place of honesty. It’s the critical difference between Benji and David. David believes there’s a time and place to express pain and grief. Benji unleashes it all like a tidal wave. 

It’s what makes the centerpiece moment of the film, a taut and revealing dinner, all the more poignant. While it seems like David is getting his moment to unload and overshare, as Benji might, with no repercussions, the dynamics of the group tour remain unchanged. It’s a brilliantl sequence that shoulders the weight of the tension into a precarious position. We understand why Benji draws people in. And, aided by Culkin’s tumultuous performance, we feel for him and the hurdles he’s grappling with. But it’s hard not to feel how David wilts in his presence viscerally.

There’s just such honesty when David tells others or even Benji himself about the envy he harbors. It’s a profoundly relatable phenomenon. The ability to adore someone and yet be jealous of what you perceive they have that you don’t. In my pettiest, ugliest moments, I long to be prettier. I want to be thinner and have a life that affords me more time, money, and energy to achieve a desired weight. Sometimes, I wish to be more naturally funny and intellectual. I long for all of these elements that don’t matter in the grand scheme of things because we’re all largely longing for something that would make us, in our own mind’s eye, better than the sum of our parts. It’s so frustratingly human for us to do so. 

A Real Pain captures that bruising frustration. The film is still wickedly funny, with Culkin’s wry and motormouth delivery landing some searing punches. But any longevity the film has is due to the script, which is far more revealing and prickly than trailers might suggest. Introspective yet light on its feet, it speaks to any of us who’ve ever struggled to find our footing in a dynamic. To call the relationship between Benji and David toxic would dismiss the writing. Instead, it showcases the messiness of what comes when we grow up along someone only for our paths to minutely diverge over time until what we miss isn’t what have in the present but who we had in the past. 

Aided by two dynamic central performances, A Real Pain is a vibrant character study. With cutting humor and well-paced introspection, the film allows grief room to breathe without any easy answers. Love and mourning are messy, and Eisenberg’s script honors this. 

A Real Pain is out now in theaters. 

Images courtesy of Searchlight Pictures.

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