Spending what Americans call “the holidays” with one’s own family can be traumatic enough, so it’s a bit odd that anyone would want to torture themselves further by seeing movies about other people’s Christmas or Thanksgiving gatherings. A decade ago, Jodie Foster assembled an eclectic cast (including, coincidentally, Claire Danes) for the hit-and-miss comedy drama Home For The Holidays; Thomas Bezucha aims for much the same territory with his sophomore effort as writer-director — and manages to score more hits than misses.
The Family Stone comprises bohemian parents Sybil and Kelly (Diane Keaton and Craig T. Nelson), devoted daughters Amy and Susannah (Rachel McAdams and Elizabeth Reaser), and three sons: a deaf gay (Tyrone Giordano) with a black boyfriend (Brian White), a feckless stoner (Luke Wilson), and an uptight businessman, Everett (Dermot Mulroney), whose new girlfriend rubs everyone up the wrong way from the moment she brings her uptight, Upper-West-Side attitude to the vast New England family home. The family is so close-knit, poor Meredith (Sarah Jessica Parker) is virtually doomed before she steps out of the car, watched by the crowd at the kitchen window. For all their tolerant values and political correctness, the Stones have mercilessly pre-judged Meredith — much to the annoyance of Everett, who has marriage in mind.
It’s a recipe with ingredients taken from everything from Meet The Fockers to Sweet Home Alabama. But Bezucha is thankfully less concerned with exploring familiar fish-out of-water themes than breathing life into multi-faceted, flawed characters, who reveal new complexities as the story progresses. Likewise, his commendable script is mostly successful at juggling elements of comedy, drama, romance, and even trickier prospects such as poignancy and farce.
Only twice does the film stretch credibility, and thus patience: first, when Meredith finally frees her “inner freak” after a few beers with Luke Wilson’s affable Ben; and later, when the arrival of her down-to-earth sister Julie (Danes) sends the plot in yet another direction. And, talking of direction, Bezucha’s is far less technically assured than his writing, but the uniformly high quality of the performances — Keaton and Parker in particular — smooths over the cracks.