If you’re going to see the new dramedy Away We Go, it’s best to try and separate the movie from all of the other movies it inevitably brings to mind. It draws parallels from a whole slew of films from the last decade or so—Juno; Garden State; elements of the Wes Anderson movies; the list goes on and on—but it neatly sidesteps most of the pitfalls of the genre, due mostly to good casting and the light hand of director Sam Mendes.
Away We Go is basically a comedy, in both the modern and classical senses of the word: in the months before their first child is born, a young couple (John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph) travel North America in search of their ideal future lifestyle, and ponder the difficulties of adulthood along the way. External conflict is minimal; funny things happen; the entire cast of characters (spoiler alert!) doesn’t die at the end. But then, it’s a Mendes comedy—his first—which seems to mean that the comedy is almost incidental; he’s clearly in it, directorially, for the poignancy of people working out their lives, tinged with both sorrow and hope. (This is not to cast aspersions on Mendes’s sense of humor, but forgive me if his filmography does not say, to me, “great at parties.”) And so although it’s a very funny movie, the humor is rooted more in Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida’s script—the voice is occasionally Eggers in stereo—than in the visual style or the general feel of the movie. It’s a strange divide, the director keeping his hands off the comedy and simply moving the characters around, but it seems to work.
First, as Bert and Verona move around the continent, Mendes imparts a particular visual style, full of motion and travel and place. In nearly every scene, they’re moving horizontally: walking, standing still on a moving sidewalk, driving, flying. It’s basic—we get it, they’re in motion—but it’s more than these kinds of small movies often spring for. Also, Mendes seems determined to stare emotion in the face but not to overdo it. The movie is full of the kind of painfully earnest scenes that so often turn into pure cheese before our very eyes—but somehow, due to Mendes’s delicate direction, manage to stop just short. Several times, during particular scenes, I thought, “I think I’m supposed to hate this. I am definitely supposed to hate this. Why do I not hate this?” Maybe it’s the simplicity with which he treats these moments (no swelling music, no chases to the airport), or maybe it’s just that he, in all his filmic sobriety, doesn’t seem to think they’re cheesy; in any case, we are charmed into thinking they aren’t, either.
This is likely to be both a breakout role and more of the usual for Krasinski; his character, Bert, is like HBO Jim Halpert, so that he’s not so much acting differently as getting more time and space to do what he does really well. In the long run, Krasinski may well play variations on Jim Halpert for the rest of his career—either because that’s what he can do, or because that’s what everybody thinks he can do—but it may work out for him, simply because he comes up with so many ways to be a normal, funny guy. This movie shows off his physicality (also a factor in Leatherheads, the high point of which was Krasinski playing drunk) and the things he does with his voice, and the sheer joy he seems to get out of both of the above. Rudolph, a surprising choice for something so far from her previous job on SNL, occasionally interacts with the script in ways that are awkward or come off as explain-y, but is also generally good; her delivery of a particular story toward the end of the movie is probably more than enough to cover any weird moments earlier in the movie.
Both Krasinski and Rudolph have plenty of talent to work off of, as well; highlights include the 100% reliable Allison Janney as a woman with absolutely no filters and Maggie Gyllenhaal as a hilariously/infuriatingly liberal and self-righteous mother (on refusing to use a stroller: “I love my babies! Why would I want to push them away from me?”), and Melanie Lynskey and Chris Messina as a couple whose perfect life turns out to be perfectly melancholy. A whole host of experienced comedians come and go in supporting roles, as well; the only painful thing here is the realization that most of these people won’t actually be onscreen together.
If you’re thinking of seeing Away We Go—if the trailer hasn’t totally digusted you; if you like the cast; if you’re into small stories about regular people—then you’ll probably enjoy it. There’s certainly plenty to enjoy, and a particular sense of Mendes’s grown-up-ness, to boot. Maybe it’s just a natural progression.
Away We Go, John Krasinski, Maya Rudolph, Allison Janney, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Melanie Lynskey, Chris Messina, Sam Mendes
