The Descendants (Alexander Payne, 2011)

A man forced to do some soul-searching and learn to single-parent two children while his wife lies in a terminal coma is potentially the essence of a maelstrom of schmaltz, and it is really tempting fate to have him played by George Clooney, who one is hard pushed to see as a victim, place a matter of millions in his pocket for material reassurance and then make Hawaii the setting.
But thankfully this is a film with Alexander Payne at the wheel. It isn't out of place at all in his panoply alongside Election, About Schmidt and Sideways, all of which accommodate lightness without bruising the inherent pathos. Scenes made of stock ingredients convey uncommon complexity and yet do not bludgeon the audience with the message, and the numerous traps through which films like this normally fall into proselytising or tweeness are deftly sidestepped. Yes, there are a few forced metaphors and pat elisions present too, but it is a real strength that the Clooney here is not the smirking charmer, the grizzled leader or the earnest frowner, but just a rather uncertain and small man who doesn't have all the answers or indeed a firm moral compass, and thereby turns in his most mature performance so far. I can't wait to see what Payne has done with Bruce Dern in Nebraska.

7/10