Everybody’s average at its best

Baby boomer nostalgia — the inclination to look back again and again to the men and women of the ‘50s and ‘60s — has thus far resulted in a number of fine, game-changing works. In television, we were treated to the incomparable drama Mad Men, and in literature, we were presented in 1997 with Philip Roth’s American Pastoral, a work that could go down as the defining portrait of post-World War II United States.

Everybody’s Fine, though not a period piece in the strictest sense, harkens back to bygone values and ways of life through retired telephone wire layer Frank Goode (Robert De Niro, Righteous Kill). But the quality of the movie, out Friday, is not equivalent to the aforementioned masterpieces.

As his last name makes clear, Goode is an exemplary guy — a blue-collar working man who always put food on the table and saw to it that his kids had every available avenue to achieve their dreams. He is played by consummate baby boomer icon De Niro, whose charisma is toned nearly all the way down to comfortable simplicity.

One can imagine a million grandmothers simultaneously shaking their heads in sympathy when Goode’s far-flung family cancels on his plans for a reunion. His children were always far closer to his now-deceased wife, and they are unsure how to deal with him as a widower. Thus, he fulfills the fantasy of many a Florida retiree by grabbing a camera and a suitcase and setting out to visit each of his children on his own.

As his journey progresses, Goode becomes easy to accept as a character because he is blue-collar without the baggage, toiling in the lower middle class but living and acting with none of the resentments and regressive attitudes that accompany it. He informs people that he “ran 11,000 miles of wire a week, nonstop,” to support his family, not with bitterness, but pride.  In comparison to his magnanimous values, all of his children — Amy (Kate Beckinsale, Whiteout), Robert (Sam Rockwell, Gentlemen Broncos), Rosie (Drew Barrymore, Whip It) and David (Austin Lysy, Brooklyn Lobster) — end up looking like spoiled brats. Though their representation as ungrateful yuppies is sure to go over well with the older set, it will likely elicit exasperated sighs from everyone else. 

Another annoyance is the laundry list format through which we are presented the flaws and shortcomings of the modern age. Goode’s children alternately attempt to hide divorce, lesbianism, children, drug addiction, career apathy and much more from him. And since the viewer is not shown any of Goode’s faults until nearly the end of the film, there is a grave moral imbalance with all of the 30- and 40-somethings paling in comparison to their father. 

The larger fault of the film is that it exists in a numbing, anesthetic universe. The dead pop up casually, always looking clean and happy, to wish the living well. Revelations come in the form of visions, which neatly and irrationally tie up loose ends. Even a dangerous descent into drugs and alcoholism is treated with mild disapproval and even milder mourning.

Just because Goode’s senses are slowly dulling does not mean director Kirk Jones (Nanny McPhee) has to soften ours. The title of the film sounds, in retrospect, more boring than suggestive of deeper troubles.

Maybe if Jones had manned up and created a world not so easy to live in, the audience would find it easier grieve with the characters. Instead, one is left wishing that everyone involved would have followed the advice of Bob Dylan, another icon of the 1960s:

Don’t look back.

vmain13@umdbk.com