The Kids Are All Right Ensemble

Lisa Cholodenko rebounds 6 years after the wayward Cavedweller with The Kids Are All Right, a queer-family drama and alternative-family comedy that has turned a standing-ovation premiere into a lucrative deal with Focus Features, one of few muscley indie distributors still standing in 2010.

Artificial insemination is an au courant topic in Hollywood; arriving in a couple months is The Back-up Plan, and The Baster is expected in the fall. Ms. Cholodenko edges past Jennifer Lopez and Jennifer Aniston’s respective situations with a story centered on Nic (Annette Bening) and Jules (Julianne Moore), lesbian mothers who each conceived a child through the aforementioned process. Their youngest child, 15-year-old Laser (Josh Hutcherson), convinces college-bound Joni (Mia Wasikowska), to look up their donor.

The theatricality occurs as biological dad Paul (Mark Ruffalo) quickly bonds with Joni, then Laser, and then, carnally, with Jules. Aside from the twitchy family dynamics that flow (and only sort-of ebb), the movie devotes time to the individual characters and how their singular lives are changed by the events. The family is pushed forward, but it’s unclear if the revelation of some secrets and lies will make them stronger as a unit. Along the way amazing one-liners, Bening/Moore sex scenes (while watching gay-male porn), and relatable personal and interpersonal situations are sewn together with style.

Ms. Cholodenko’s natural dialogue is custom-fit for every performer here. Mia Wasikowska, who is about to become a celebrity with Alice in Wonderland, has these moments in the third act where you feel as though she really could have been nurtured in Annette Bening’s womb. Josh Hutcherson emerges from his collection of forgettable movies as he takes a punch from his crappy only friend, spits out blood, and walks away into manhood. There’s also a serious lack of leading lady Botox, and the Benning vs. Moore on-screens duels shove the story towards its conclusion without venturing into melodramatic territory. Mark Ruffalo gives his best performance since You Can Count on Me (clearly I’m barring Zodiac for dramatic effect). One of the many things I loved about the look of the movie is Mark Ruffalo’s styling, an updated take on 70s-era Warren Beatty with his bohemian jewelry, denim shirt opened up to the chest, and post-coital hair and skin, which is always welcome.

Nothing else I saw yesterday was as noteworthy, though Blue Valentine is the kind of film you’d expect from Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams: superbly acted and heartbreaking, with many debts to John Cassavetes. Harvey Weinstein was in attendance, and the film feels like a movie he likes to champion.

Happier Than Their Film: Cianfrance, Williams, and Gosling

Writer-director Derek Cianfrance looks at the dissolution of a blue-collar marriage, though as the crumbling begins, he craftily re-directs the narrative to the point where the romance between Dean (Gosling) and Cindy (Williams) takes root. The construct confirms that Gosling and Williams are two of the finest young American actors who, quite simply stated, want to make art films more than commercial fare.

Both actors know how to use nuance to create fully realized characters. Gosling is cigarettes, beer, unshaved, in love with his family and failing himself. (The only oops is his perfect manicure.) Williams is exhausted, checked-out, and, we soon learn, haunted by how she became a mother and then found her husband. One of the most depressing notions Blue Valentine offers is the notion that Dean provided Cindy with her first orgasm, though he was maybe her 25th sex partner. This kind of moment and insight is embedded in Cianfrance’s writing and it’s obvious that Gosling and Williams, who both executive produced the project, developed their characters to points of miserable perfection.

Less developed was Diego Luna’s feature directorial debut, Abel, which feels like a half-formed Almodovar idea stripped of its color, electricity, and climax. Titual Abel is a troubled little boy who returns home from a stint in psychiatric ward, where he assumes the role of his absent father. Just as his mother and two siblings begin to flourish with the new dynamic, the father returns, yet Abel refuses to give up his post as head of table.

There’s a lack of harmony between the comedy, drama, and mystery here, and I think the screenplay could have used some time at a Sundance Screenwriting Lab.