Written and Directed by Darren Le Gallo
Starring Jake Hoffman, Schuyler Fisk, Dustin Hoffman, Sissy Spacek
Rated R 
Runtime: 1 hour, 50 minutes
In theatres November 18

by Caitlin Hart, Contributing Writer

In a Hollywood crowded with elevated horror, superhero movies and endless IP iterations, it’s not often audiences are treated to a comedy-drama about grief and family. 

Sam & Kate is a family drama meets romcom. Sam (Jake Hoffman) is a talented artist who has returned to his hometown to care for his elderly father Bill (Dustin Hoffman). On Christmas Eve, the two men meet Kate (Schuyler Fisk) and her mother Tina (Sissy Spacek), and the two pairs' lives become intertwined. The plot unfolds slowly, less a series of cause and effect than a meditation on family, grief, and art. As a debut directorial effort from Darren Le Gallo, this film, while not groundbreaking, is competent and heartfelt. It’s the kind of movie that rarely exists anymore, and despite its only modest success at what it wants to be, I for one welcome the return of small family tragicomedies to the big screen. 

It would be easy to write this film off as a Hallmark-esque movie – set around Christmas in a small town, involving a love story between two characters with cute jobs no one in real life has – Sam works in a chocolate factory and Kate is a folk singer who owns a bookstore – come on. But the performances, the direction, and the way the film deals honestly with grief sets it apart from the average movie you might watch on Boxing Day with your parents. That said, this film isn’t exactly treading new ground or offering some new perspective. What makes this film work, more or less, is its simplicity, its unpretentious quality. 

Le Gallo is restrained with the camera, with some gorgeous moments of stillness, characters in alternatively claustrophobic or wide open space, long shots that never end on a close up. Unlike a Hallmark Christmas movie, no one moves back to their hometown from the big city. Unlike a conventional movie about pursuing one’s dreams, neither Sam nor Kate abandon their town to pursue their art. Sam rents a studio in an old mechanics shop; Kate, who was once a folk singer, starts to play the piano again. The final moment of the film is one of my favourites – Kate singing from the other room (a song written and performed by Fisk), and Sam listening, then joining her. The film doesn’t cut to Kate and Sam, but leaves us in the other room, with Kate singing off screen. It has a sense of space, of breathing, that has become unusual in film. There are other memorable choices behind the camera – Bill and Sam’s home is always shot from the same angle, until Sam comes home from his father’s funeral, and the scene is shot from the opposite angle, the house forever changed by Bill’s absence. A scene shot from behind, scored only by Sam’s shrill sobs, it’s one of the film’s most powerful and understated moments. 

It’s difficult not to compare this film with another writer-director debut from this year – Mayim Bialik’s As They Made Us, another comedy-drama starring Dustin Hoffman, dealing with family dynamics and grief. Of the two, Sam & Kate is more successful, with a much lighter touch and more competent technical elements, though neither film seems to rise to the level of artistry they aspire to. 

That said, I wanted to crawl inside the world of this movie. I want to live in a town where people ride bikes and buy records, go on roller rink dates and eat picnics in the park. It’s a cozy movie, one that feels nostalgic for a bygone era, despite the fact that it takes place in the present. Its concerns are not modern concerns – the story could work in almost any era. It’s charming and quaint to imagine a world where families go to church on Christmas Eve and eat dinner together. It feels like message beaming from a different time, one that probably never existed. 

Sam & Kate is a bowl of chicken soup, ideal for watching on the couch as snow falls outside. The film lacks tension for the first half or so – the conflict between parents and children escalates throughout the film, but the romantic tension between Sam and Kate never leads anywhere productive. The story felt thin towards the end, the conflict between Sam and Kate essentially unexplored. Tina and Bill are more interesting and complicated characters, but we don’t get as much from them, or from their relationship.

It goes without saying, at this point, that both Spacek and Hoffman are wonderful in this film. While some of their contemporaries (ahem, Robert DeNiro) seem to say yes to any film (ahem, Diane Keaton), Hoffman and Spacek always turn in excellent performances, and seem pickier about the kinds of films they work on. They’re both still just as good as they were at their career peaks. The only let down is neither had more time onscreen.  

Fisk, Spacek’s real life daughter, is sweet and understated in her role. While everyone is turning in a naturalistic, authentic performance, Jake Hoffman – Dustin Hoffman’s son –  is a real stand out in the cast. He’s so relentlessly charming and genuine, and then vulnerable and honest in his performance, it’s impossible not to fall in love with him. His scenes with the elder Hoffman are particularly powerful, the two actors feeding off of each other, balancing incredible tension and admiration for each other. 

The casting would feel gimmicky if the younger Hoffman wasn’t such a talented actor. This is far from the first Hollywood film to use real life mother-daughter or father-son pairs onscreen, but this film does it effectively. The relationships between Bill and Sam, and Kate and Tina, feel authentic, because they are. There is real affection and conflict between the parent-child pairs – so much so that I wanted more of those scenes, and less of the friction-less romance between Fisk and Hoffman. 

Ultimately, the disparate threads of the film don’t quite come together. While the script resists making any sweeping comments about the nature of grief, or the reason we make art, it also doesn’t offer any insight on these topics. One grieves because death is sad and relationships are complicated. One creates art just because they should use their natural talent. You could argue it’s just understated – but ultimately it just feels undeveloped. 

So while it doesn’t go as deep as I wanted it to, or create any new indelible images or great lines, Sam and Kate is an affecting film. Not everything has to be Citizen Kane, and that’s what De Gallo was going for, anyway. If you’re anything like me, sometimes you need a break from challenging, canonical films, but you don’t want to eat the cinema junk food of Lifetime television. Sam and Kate fills that gap perfectly – a warm and ultimately hopeful film.