Goodrich
Written and directed by Hallie Meyers-Shyer
Starring Michael Keaton, Mila Kunis, Carmen Ejogo, Michael Urie
Rated R
Runtime: 1 hour 50 minutes
In theaters now

by Tessa Swehla, Associate Editor

Goodrich, the most recent film by writer-director Hallie Meyers-Shyer, feels like the kind of indie family dramedy that doesn’t get a lot of attention these days. The film opens with art gallery owner Andy Goodrich (Michael Keaton) receiving a call from his wife–who he didn’t even realize wasn’t sleeping next to him–informing him that she is getting help for her pill addiction–an addiction he didn’t know she had–at a rehab facility over the next 90 days. She further informs him that he will have to take care of their middle-school-aged twins Billie and Mose (Vivien Lyra Blair and Jacob Kopera) while she is away. Bewildered at this turn of events and swamped by financial trouble at the art gallery, Andy enlists the help of his 36-year-old daughter from his first marriage, entertainment writer and soon-to-be-mother Grace (Mila Kunis), but as he gets more involved in his children’s lives, the more he begins to reflect on his priorities and re-evaluate his work-life balance.

This premise provides a novel take on the family dramedy, allowing us to take a look at an unusual family dynamic with an empathetic lens. As Grace points out to Billie, it’s not usual for someone to have siblings 27 years younger than them,“unless,” as she reflects, dryly, “you live in LA.” Andy doesn’t really give the impression of someone who ever actually thought too much about what having kids means even after having them: his beautiful house isn’t child-friendly and he doesn’t understand their school schedule or activities, forgetting to pack them lunch, pick them up, or even knowing when their parent-teacher conferences are. As Billie notes after he tells them not to damage the table by eating on it, “Mom likes us more than you do.”

Considering the nostalgia moment that Keaton has had the past two years reinhabiting roles that made him famous in The Flash (2023) and Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024), it is good to see that he is still making films that don’t come with IP baggage or lots of makeup and prosthetics. He’s still got that perfect comedic timing. One of the funniest moments of the film involves a group activity at a breathwork class a potential client hosts at her house. When the group is asked to shout the thing they need most in one word, Andy shouts “Help!” several seconds before anyone else, a moment relatable in its hilarity.

However, I’m not sure what questions this movie is asking or even if the movie itself knows. Is this movie about how work isn’t as important as family? Is this movie about the effects of absentee parenting? Is it about how nobody–even wealthy, New York coded, 60-year-old white men–know what they are doing? For all of its interesting ideas, it doesn’t dig deeply enough into any of them to leave a lasting impression. 

The characters themselves present a problem as well. Am I supposed to laugh at the antics of a man who doesn’t remember that his child has a nut allergy? Am I supposed to sympathize with someone who relied on the unpaid domestic labor of women to raise his children for more than 36 years who suddenly doesn’t have that support anymore because his wife needed to take pills to get through her day? I’m not saying this isn’t good tension to present on film, but Goodrich doesn’t seem that interested in interrogating traditional gender labor distribution or in holding its protagonist accountable for his choices, many of which are as opaque to the audience as they are to Grace. 

Keaton doesn’t really react to anything with any emotion other than bewilderment–which is great for comedy but less so for emotional impact or growth. Sure, it’s fun to tease the olds about how out of touch they are, but Andy isn’t a conservative CEO or middle-class insurance salesman. It’s hard to believe in all of his years as an international art dealer that he’s never been propositioned by a gay man before or that he doesn’t know what breathwork is or has never attended a crunchy feminist performance art show. He lives in LA! He’s at least heard about these things at one of those numerous client dinners that his children and ex-spouses keep complaining about.

Kunis seems to be the only actor in the film given anything meatier than a one note character, but even her best efforts are muted by virtue of the fact that she isn’t the POV character of this film. I don’t want to speculate too much about writer and director Meyers-Shyers relationship with her famous filmmaker parents, but by the time we get to Grace’s confessions of long-simmering hurt and resentment at the end of the film, I did wonder if Meyers-Shyers really wanted to make the film about Grace’s conflict between wanting her father to grow and her anger that his growth didn’t happen when she really needed it as a child. Andy doesn’t take complete accountability for his previous absenteeism in any of his children’s lives or is even able to fully reconcile his creative, professional side with his personal relationships. In fact, the one nod towards his trying to do anything remotely like that in the film feels unearned and a bit manipulative. 

I have a soft spot for films about unlikeable characters who try to become better people. There is an inherent optimism in the idea that people can change, even people considered “past their prime,” and the best of these films frame this kind of change as difficult and hard won. It takes work, reflection, and the ability to recognize the toxic behaviors that need to change. Instead, Goodrich, like Grace, ultimately allows its titular character off the hook.