Good Grief – Film Review

Dan Levy’s Good Grief, his first feature-length film as writer and director, is a comedy-drama that delicately navigates the complex terrain of love, loss, and self-discovery. Anchored by a talented cast and thoughtful character-driven storytelling, the film offers poignant moments of humor and heartache, though it occasionally struggles to balance its tonal shifts.

At its core, Good Grief tells the story of Marc (Dan Levy), a man grappling with the sudden loss of his husband, Oliver (Luke Evans). The film’s exploration of grief is both deeply personal and universally relatable, as Marc is supported by his two best friends, Sophie (Ruth Negga) and Thomas (Himesh Patel), on a journey of healing and self-acceptance.

Set against the contrasting backdrops of London’s hustle and Paris’s romantic charm, the narrative unfolds with a mix of quiet introspection and sharp humor. The film avoids overly sentimental tropes, opting instead for a grounded portrayal of mourning that acknowledges its messiness and unpredictability.

The ensemble cast is one of the film’s greatest strengths. Dan Levy, in the lead role, brings a raw vulnerability to Marc that feels genuine. His portrayal captures the internal conflict of a man torn between anger and longing, self-pity and self-discovery. Levy’s comedic timing, honed from his work on Schitt’s Creek, adds levity to the film without undercutting its emotional weight.

Ruth Negga as Sophie delivers a nuanced performance, balancing her character’s playful wit with an undercurrent of sadness stemming from her own personal struggles. Himesh Patel’s Thomas is equally compelling, providing a steady, empathetic presence that anchors Marc through his emotional turbulence. Their chemistry as a trio feels natural, their banter sharp yet heartfelt, embodying the kind of enduring friendship that can weather life’s storms.

Luke Evans, though appearing briefly as Oliver, imbues the character with warmth and charisma, making his loss palpable. Celia Imrie as Marc’s neighbor and confidante adds a touch of wisdom and humor, while Arnaud Valois as Theo, a French love interest, brings a subtle charm that complements Marc’s arc of healing.

Levy’s direction showcases a clear visual sensibility, with the cinematography by Ole Bratt Birkeland beautifully capturing the intimacy of London interiors and the luminous allure of Paris. The scenes set at the Musée de l’Orangerie and on the Roue de Paris are particularly striking, evoking the sense of wonder and catharsis that Marc seeks in his journey.

However, while the film’s aesthetic is polished, it often feels a bit too safe. Levy’s directorial debut lacks the daring or distinct visual flourishes that might elevate it to something truly memorable. Moments that should linger emotionally sometimes feel rushed, with the film adhering to a tidy structure that prioritizes resolution over the rawness of grief.

The script aims to balance humor with drama, and while it succeeds in creating moments of genuine laughter and poignancy, the tonal shifts occasionally feel jarring. For instance, some comedic exchanges between Marc and his friends undermine the gravity of more reflective scenes, disrupting the emotional flow.

The film’s exploration of grief, though sincere, leans on familiar tropes and risks oversimplifying complex emotions. Marc’s journey toward acceptance is moving, but some of his breakthroughs feel a touch contrived, particularly when juxtaposed with the more authentic moments of camaraderie and vulnerability shared with Sophie and Thomas.

Despite its occasional missteps, Good Grief resonates because of its earnest exploration of themes like renewal, forgiveness, and self-expression. Marc’s rediscovery of painting serves as a poignant metaphor for his healing process, illustrating the ways art can be both a refuge and a means of self-reinvention.

The subplot involving Oliver’s secrets adds depth to the narrative, forcing Marc to confront the imperfections of his relationship and his own lingering doubts. Levy handles these revelations with care, avoiding melodrama and instead focusing on how Marc processes them in the context of his grief.

At its heart, Good Grief is a celebration of friendship and its role in helping us navigate life’s darkest moments. Sophie and Thomas’s unwavering support provides a counterbalance to Marc’s isolation, reminding viewers of the importance of community in the face of loss.

The dynamic between the trio is the emotional linchpin of the film, and Levy wisely devotes ample screen time to their interactions. Whether bickering over minor grievances or sharing quiet moments of reflection, their relationship feels authentic and lived-in, grounding the film’s more whimsical elements in a sense of reality.

As a directorial debut, Good Grief is an admirable effort that demonstrates Levy’s potential as a filmmaker. His ability to blend humor and pathos is evident, as is his knack for creating relatable characters and heartfelt dialogue. However, the film’s reliance on conventional storytelling and its occasional tonal inconsistencies suggest room for growth in future projects.

Levy’s decision to wear multiple hats—writer, director, and lead actor—might have contributed to the film’s unevenness. Delegating some responsibilities could allow him to refine his focus and delve deeper into the emotional core of his stories.

Good Grief is a touching, if imperfect, exploration of love, loss, and the resilience of the human spirit. While it doesn’t break new ground in its portrayal of grief, its heartfelt performances and moments of genuine connection make it a worthwhile watch.

For fans of Dan Levy’s work or those seeking a thoughtful, character-driven narrative, Good Grief offers a poignant reminder that healing is a journey best undertaken with the support of those who know us best. As Levy continues to hone his craft, his debut provides a promising glimpse into a filmmaker capable of telling stories with humor, heart, and humanity.