'The Starling' Review: Chris O'Dowd's Performance Soars but the Film Should Have Remained Grounded
A ‘dramedy’ not quite sure of itself, “The Starling” features an amazing cast, equally unsure of themselves.
When the fall season hits, there are some are some constants in the world. The weather cools off. Pumpkin Spice dominates. Comedians take dramatic turns in award season hopefuls.
Melissa McCarthy has made some progress in that last constant. Her dramatic turns in ‘Can you Ever Forgive Me’ and ‘St Vincent’ have garnered critical praise and respect from her comedic fanbase. The latter was with filmmaker Theodore Melfi, at one time, predominantly a producer who’s directorial efforts have garnered just as much respect, and even Oscar nominations for his cast members. Melfi clearly enjoys working with comedians, having previously worked with McCarthy, Irish comedian Chris O’Dowd and icon Bill Murray in St Vincent, and now re-teaming with McCarthy, O’Dowd, in ‘The Starling’ as well as bringing in a man who is no stranger to comedy in Kevin Kline.
The Starling follows a married couple who have suffered a tragic hardship, leading the husband, Jack (O’Dowd) to seek help to deal with his grief while Lilly (McCarthy) remains in her day-to-day tedium, dealing with her guilt in her own way. Working at a supermarket, she finds distraction by restocking Hostess Snowballs in the perfect formation, hanging out with her 20-something colleague, Dickie (Skylar Gisondo) or being berated by her tactless Manager (Timothy Olyphant). The most important aspect of her routine is going for her weekly drive, an hour away, to visit Jack and reconnect as much as they can. When her regular routines at work and at the mental health facility are put on hold to finally focus on herself, she tries to distract herself from her own pain by cleaning up the acreage of the ranch-style homestead she inherited. In the titular yet absolutely most ham-fisted attempt at a subplot, a starling, has nested in her yard, and begins to attack her every time she tries to set foot outside.
Stubborn to the last, both creatures face off in a real battle of wits and will to see who will conquer, the bird, or the middle aged grieving Lilly. To guide Lilly as to what to do both in her personal journey and in her rivalry with the small fowl, comes eccentric and abrupt psychiatrist turned veterinarian, Larry Fine (Kline). Lilly and Larry form an unlikely relationship and help each other through the feathered-darkness.
There are major issues with this film. It’s best just to state it right away. It is as remarkably unbalanced as McCarthy in many of her takes on physical-comedy. The film plummets the ground just like Lilly often does, as if it were pummelled in the head by a 58-ounce winged-nightmare. The issue is however, the nightmare that the film addresses, is very real. That is where audiences may, and probably will, take umbrage against it. The tragedy that Jack and Lilly suffered, if it cannot be gleaned by this review, is the couple tragically loses their infant daughter. A tragedy too many loving parents have to deal with because of accidents, illness, or in cases like The Starling, sudden infant death syndrome. The film, to its credit deftly introduced the family’s loss in an absolutely beautiful and gentle way. It brings us in to this loving couple, this warm ranch house, and lets us slip into the bath that seemingly we’re going to soak in for the remainder of the film. Within the next 20-minutes of the film, however, just as the goat’s milk bubble bath has fizzled away, and the eucalyptus infused mint-scented candle has burned down just a bit, it’s almost as if someone dunks ice water over your head as if it were a viral campaign in 2014.
The comedic tone of this film, is absolutely insulting. It seems as if it were meant for a completely different McCarthy film. The irony being that this could have easily been a Paul Feig film, as the comedy becomes too self-important and gets in the way of what could otherwise be a pertinent and relevant message. But to literally witness a grieving mother, who has no real support system barely keeping things together to then be terrified by a tiny bird in what can only be described as ‘Tex Averian’ madcap adventures is an absolute insult. This is not to say that a film cannot deal with tragedy in a comedic way, but the comedy must not get in the way. More importantly, while comedy is subjective, why this mix of Stooge-like physical comedies rather than wit, or sarcasm, which audiences know McCarthy can excel at? The simple answer was this script was seemingly always meant to be another lowbrow dogeared page in McCarthy’s vast but unremarkable catalogue of subpar comedies. McCarthy has often proved how funny she can be, what a great performer she can be, and yet, her brand still to this day is to be that goofy, fall-on-the-ground at least three times lead actor. It would have been amazing to see what heart she could have brought to this character. It would have been the braver choice to allow her dramatic moments the air needed to scream out and get the audience’s attention. Instead, a poorly animated CGI starling steals the show, and the message and meaning of the film flies away.
The other characters certainly don’t aid to ‘ground’ the message either. While audiences will relate to some of McCarthy’s conveyance of her pain and mindset, the bombardment of what happens around her often takes things too far. Not even to the outer limits of comedy, either, instead creating annoyances that Lilly, nor the audience need. If it was Melfi, or screenwriter Matt Harris’ intention to show that sometimes the world can just absolutely drown you in struggles, then once again, there were stronger choices within the script to be made. Instead, literally all the secondary characters surrounding Lilly are not redeemable or a worthy addition to her life, and therefor not entertaining in the slightest. Olyphant as the Manager, Travis is such an over-the-top douchebag of a character, he didn’t have an ounce of realism. Not to say it isn’t possible for people who are so bereft of empathy or tact to exist, just that he felt like an afterthought shoehorned in for cheap laughs or even thrifter sympathy. There are also three characters in this story who are (or were) therapists, including Kline’s Fine. If these doctors actually existed, the amount of malfeasance filings would be enough to furnish thousands of starling nests. They too, much like Olyphant, are absolutely terrible people, and even worse doctors. Even when Fine has moments of fatherlike surrogacy or brief lightening strikes of Hippocratic assistance, it felt forced, and often not enough to truly like the character. The message, whether intentional or not regarding the help those suffering from mental illness may receive was abhorrent. This world has seen enough of films the likes of this or ‘Silver Linings Playbook’, that show mental illness to be a quirk, or a phase, or an outburst with an over-protective bird, and it needs to end. Filmmakers, take note, you can show the reality of tragedy and still make it universally funny, even without resorting to cheap gags. There can be laughs in therapy. There can be humor and joy in healing, but to collectively show every mental health professional in this film as sarcastic, uncaring or aberrant does real damage. There’s nothing funny about that, and that’s not being subjective.
But in one of the brighter spots, and ironically segueing into something else that isn’t really funny, (but in this case actually works for the film) is the performance of Chris O’Dowd. O’Dowd has taken his opportunities to do more dramatic work, or more centred comedies to show how much he’s grown since the early days of the I.T. crowd, and The Starling is truly his best work. He is the only true real character in the entire film. His reactions and his emotional journey are the only believable aspect of the film. Despite all that was a part of both Jack’s life, and O’Dowd’s role in this film; his terrible therapists, the misadventures of his wife, the awful mid-90s era sketch comedy characters that populate the health facility, O’Dowd continued to shine. Jack’s story is the main narrative that should have been followed, without question. Jack was the one aspect of the screenplay where Harris got things right. There were even moments where one could forget about the Napoleonesque avian war plans when Lilly was seen with her husband. McCarthy’s best moments on screen was when she was with O’Dowd, and again, that was simply because it was the only time the script allowed her to show her chops.
A decade and half ago, this screenplay was featured on the first Black List, a list of the most-liked unproduced screenplays, which is one of the more startling surprises Hollywood has offered in. along time. Yet that could simply not be for this script. There is no doubt it changed and devolved over fifteen years before this final cut finally escaped. This film was such a wasted opportunity. It could have been so sweet and poignant. It could have been a conversation starter. It could have inspired those who need help to get help. Instead, it threw away the more touching moments for predictable tropes that killed any momentum the film had, or interrupted with beats of ridiculous incongruous slapstick. The entire film was as if Harris only recently discovered the definition of metaphor. It wasted the talents of Kline, Olyphant and even Daveed Diggs on characters that were an obstacle to the value of the film, out of place, or merely throw away characters. Yet the most devastating tragedy was how it wasted perhaps a once-in-a-career performance from Chris O’Dowd (but hopefully not). As the film so obviously tries to teach its audience, there are little signs everywhere. Fifteen years of being deemed a ‘popular script’, yet remaining unproduced, was a very clear sign in this instance.