Away We Go (2009)

dir. Sam Mendes
writ. Dave Eggers & Vendela Vida
feat. John Krasinski, Maya Rudolph, Carmen Ejogo, Catherine O'Hara, Jeff Daniels, Allison Janney, Jim Gaffigan, Samantha Pryor, Conor Caroll, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Josh Hamilton

For a moment, Away We Go hints at a great movie idea, exploring the lives of a couple in their mid-thirties about to have a baby who haven't yet figured out their place in the world. When Burt (Krasinski) and Verona (Rudolph) discuss whether or not they are "fuck ups," there is a whiff of timely territory, the chance to tap into the hearts of a generation that has put off marriage and children for a decade longer than their parents, who arguably have lived more of their youth as individuals, or have simply extended adolescence. I know those people. They are my friends and myself. I haven't seen that movie.

Alas, no. Instead, we are driven roughshod through a weak road movie with implausible, unamusing characters and a badgering score, desperate to make the viewer feel deeply at appropriate times. Burt and Verona pass as real people, even if Burt falls a bit close to Krasinski's role on The Office and Verona comes up short of spirited, charismatic, or even interesting. But from there forward, a slew of cartoon characters fill the screen, from Burt's parents (Daniels and O'Hara) swiped from a Christopher Guest film to Verona's sister for a forced moment of nostalgia for their deceased parents to a series of good friends and old acquaintances jam-packed with quirks and "crazy" parenting techniques.

All of this would be fine if the film wasn't so eager, so needy in its pursuit of truth and answers to big questions. Every time the music swells, Alexi Murdoch's songs plead with the viewer to forget the trite conversation and gut-clenchingly false characters and just feel the pain and yearning of these good, pregnant people. And ultimately, therein lies the biggest crime of the picture. From the outset, it neglects the very basic idea of this visual medium of showing and not telling. Whether in the many supposedly philosophical conversations or the pushy soundtrack, no feeling is earned but instead demanded.