Normally we all make snap judgments on a new movie, show or song. Our prevailing wisdom tells us that such artistic endeavors either resonate with us immediately or simply fall short of what we are looking for in such medias. Yet, from time to time, it either takes repeated viewings or some unknown length of time between viewings or listenings to form an ultimate opinion on how we truly feel. For me, “Dan In Real Life” falls into the latter category.
My initial reaction was one of complete surprise at a movie that was entirely different than what I had expected based on the previews. My secondary impression was that Steve Carell’s character, Dan Burns, was a latter-day version of Charlie Brown, a walking Murphy’s Law who was shunned by everyone in his life and couldn’t find any way at all to do anything right. As a result, my gut instinct was to assign the movie an overriding feeling of depression, which was hard to overcome. Initially, getting past that pervasive pall of sadness was difficult enough to overpower some of the other attractive aspects of the flick.
Combined with this gray mood of the movie was a perception that poor casting had robbed the story of a chance of being really good. In the first half-hour of the film, it was hard to picture Carell in any other light than as Michael Scott of “The Office,” and I spent that first 30 minutes waiting for Dwight to show up and start whipping beets at Juliette Binoche (Marie). I found Binoche to be very good in her role, both captivating and mysterious at times, and once Carell found his rhythm within the movie, they became a very engaging, nuanced couple. But Dane Cook in a fairly vital role? Really? Cook plays Mitch, who is dating the woman that Dan met in a bookstore and fell for on sight, not knowing she was his brother’s girlfriend. Plus, Dan’s sisters were all throwaway characters in the flick, and I thought that, considering his fairly impressive background, director and writer Peter Hedges (“What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?”, “About A Boy” and “Pieces of April”) could have gotten more out of Dan’s parents, the always-great John Mahoney and underrated Dianne Wiest.
There is also a sense that we never really get to know Dan and the emotions that are restricting him in so many ways. We pick up that he’s an advice columnist who has also written a fairly successful work of fiction, but for such a large part of his life, we really learn very little about this part of him. We are told that his wife passed away, but we are given little to no background about her death, an event that must have informed so much of his professional and personal choices and aspirations. The plot development seemed a little immature at times as well, relying on some clichés, especially at the end, where things are tied up a little too tidily and come across as too feel-good. And, whether you would like to admit it or not, you were undoubtedly praying that Dan would eventually slap the ever-loving christ out of one or all of his daughters at various points.
Yet at its best, “Dan In Real Life” proves that even the blandest movie can have a moment or two that sweeps you up, that even the most predictable of flicks can be quite different than what you expect. In fact, this movie adopted a relatively revolutionary marketing tactic; it used the tag line, “Plan to be surprised,” effectively giving a nod to a marketing campaign centered around not fully explaining the movie itself, letting you make your own assumptions that would theoretically be proven wrong when you actually watched the movie. Of course, this method makes a very large assumption itself: that you will, in fact, go see the movie. It’s a risky approach, but one that can pay off if things fall into place.
Hedges does come up with a few subtle, well-placed techniques within the flick as well. As has been pointed out elsewhere, the use of “Murphy’s Law” as the answer to a crossword puzzle effectively serves as a symbol of Dan’s role throughout the bulk of the movie. Also, the football game of the frontyard is rife with symbolism, with Cook’s character and Carell’s character pulling Marie toward them, literally pulling her in different directions. Even more telling, Binoche’s character, the love interest, is “Marie” to Dan and “Annie” to Mitch, symbolizing how each brother views her as a completely different person, who represents different things to each.
There were a few funny moments as well. Dan picking out “Everyone Poops” and declaring it a “real page-turner” for Marie to buy in the bookstore was hysterical, as were the physical-comedy moments that Carell excels at, from his attempting to do some form of yoga, to dancing at a bar, to rocketing out a window and flying off the roof and into some bushes.
The humorous scenes were balanced well by some unexpectedly poignant moments. The movie really finds its soul when Dan joins Mitch onstage for a family talent show, playing the guitar and singing Peter Townshend’s “Let My Love Open the Door.” We’re finally let into Dan’s hidden heart, the area he has protected for so long, when the song ends and Dan unexpectedly plays the final verse as a solo:
When tragedy befalls you
Don’t let them bring you down
Love can cure your problem
You’re so lucky I’m around
Let my love open the door
Let my love open the door
Let my love open the door
Let my love open the door
To your heart
Unmistakable as a naked plea to Marie to help him fully break free from the memory of his dead wife, the verse serves as a spellbinding, moving moment in the film.
“Dan In Real Life” would have benefited from finding its footing with more mature, serious moments and revelations earlier in the story arc, but is redeemed in the end by such meaningful moments. This is a film that was created to surprise you and destroy your expectations; whether it truly succeeds resides within the individual viewer, but it deserves credit for taking that leap. I believe it falls short of landing where it ultimately intended, but it’s a film that grows on you as time passes … and such movies are rare enough that “Dan In Real Life” is one to be remembered for its boldness.
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