Dan Levy gave audiences the ultimate gay wedding with the series finale of Schitt’s Creek. He’s now probing the weight of the phrase “til death do us part” in his feature directorial debut Good Grief. The film, which has no relation to Charlie Brown but might inspire use of his favourite expression from cynical viewers, is an earnest drama about love, relationships, and the long messy road to figuring life out. However, fans expecting the solid laughs of Schitt’s Creek won’t find them here. Levy nevertheless competently manages the weight of expectations set by his hit series by exploring some of the themes set out in Schitt’s Creek’s ground-breaking portrait of David and Patrick’s romance with a more serious take on what happens to couples—gay, straight, and everything in between—after tying the knot. It’s comfort viewing for a lonely Saturday night.
Good Grief offers something of a Christmas movie, too, as Levy opens the film with a lavish holiday party with a tragic twist. Marc (Levy) and his husband Oliver (Luke Evans) make the yuletide gay in their impossibly well-decorated yet affordable London flat. Their holiday party seems to be an annual affair with friends gathering for a climatic sing-along. This year, the tune’s “Everyday Will Be Like a Holiday.” But the irony hits quickly when Marc kisses Oliver goodbye, as the latter has to dash off to another book signing in Paris for the YA-series that funds their lavish lifestyle. Mere seconds later, sirens beckon outside the window and Marc learns that Oliver died in a car accident steps away from home.
A Friendship Throuple
A tear-filled year follows as Marc mourns his lost love. He finds unwavering support in his friend and ex Thomas (Himesh Patel, Yesterday) and boozy hurricane of a bestie Sophie (Passing‘s Ruth Negga). With yoga classes, binge-watching sessions, nights of takeaway, and lots of drinks, the friends help Marc navigate his grief. He also meets a dashing Frenchman, Theo (Arnaud Valois), who reminds him that he still has lots of love to give. Levy fills the first half of the film with Marc stepping cautiously through the stages of grief. Yes, there are teary close-ups and plenty of monologues about the great love that Marc and Oliver had for each other, plus lots of reassuring convos with Thomas (who clearly still has a thing for Marc) and Sophie that they don’t have life figured-out, either. It’s cinematic therapy that reminds one of the perks of a good cry.
But Marc’s mourning hinges on an unopened Christmas card from Oliver. Its message offers a cruel twist and inspires a Parisian getaway with Thomas and Sophie. There’s fun with fashion, drinks, and karaoke, plus a midnight stroll with the hunky Frenchman through Paris’s wide boulevards, and more platitudes to coax Marc from his slump.
The collective group hug that Good Grief assembles loses its grip somewhat in the Parisian jaunt, though. Marc, Thomas, and Sophie have a lot of feelings. What begins as catharsis becomes a bit whiny as they talk things out again and again. And again. The gang’s more encumbered with emotional cargo than Moira Rose at a city council meeting. Whether one shares all the feels or responds with an eye-roll may depend upon how one relates to these characters and their situations. Good Grief is a very Millennial consideration of adulting and the responsibilities it entails.
On Love and Letting Go
While the approach is somewhat schematic, and the dialogue occasionally self-important, Levy presents a thoughtful portrait of the grieving process. Good Grief explores what it means to let go and forgive, and facing head-on the daunting task of starting afresh when one approaches middle age. Moreover, Good Grief refreshingly illustrates the importance of chosen families among the bonds that carry people through the highest and lowest moments of one’s life.
Levy, who directed several episodes of Schitt’s Creek, works comfortably with his co-stars to create a natural sense of kinship between the three friends. Patel confidently plays the voice of reason as Thomas, but also volleys the film’s theme of letting go by evoking how much his character clings to the glimmer of hope that he and Marc will get back together. Meanwhile, Negga offers a lively spark with the most dynamic role of Good Grief, and arguably the showiest. Sophie offers a hot mess to counterpoint Marc’s manicured veneer that convinces himself that all is well. She’s the most authentic character of the trio and frequently grounds the film when the drama needs to feel real.
Less successful are the random cameos that bring some jarring lurches. They include an appearance by Kaitlyn Dever as the star of the adaptations of Oliver’s books. She delivers a eulogy at his funeral that’s two levels of cringe and better suited to a bad sitcom. Meanwhile, The Crown’s Emma Corrin makes a bizarre flyby as a performance artist who writhes in ropes and then knits them together. These loony pop-ins ring false in a film that often strives to feel genuine. They’re also just not funny—missteps in storytelling, but a good sign that Levy’s a hot commodity post-Schitt’s Creek.
A Sincere Debut
Levy, meanwhile, offers a much different turn compared to characters he’s played before. His wry comedic timing is present, but the actor challenges his dramatic side, perhaps making Good Grief most notable for his versatility as an actor. Unlike his work as David in Schitt’s Creek, Levy doesn’t have a well-timed shady zinger to punctuate every moment. Instead, Marc challenges him to fill moments of silence with words unsaid and create a character who, like many of us, doesn’t have an arsenal of life’s answers in a clutch purse.
As a director’s work, Good Grief won’t live in the cultural memory as long as Schitt’s Creek will, but it’s amiable viewing for a lonely Saturday night. Moreover, Levy offers a respectable sense for staging shots that let the performers shine with muted palettes and natural lighting to emphasize the themes of grief and mourning. With an fine sense for metropolitan locations, a great sense for cozy over-sized sweaters, and hic range of eyewear, and a terrific knack for interior decorating that puts the fanciest of Nancy Meyers kitchens to shame, Levy creates environments that are comfortable yet aspirational: how any creative type can afford these places gives audiences reason to dream. Levy admirably treads outside his comfort zone here and his willingness to be vulnerable lends the film some gravitas. He is, as Stevie might say, incapable of faking sincerity.
