Somewhere in Ode to Joy is a truly endearing, well-intentioned movie that has a profound view about breaking free from the shackles of disappointment, and taking leaps in life. Why that was abandoned in favour of the result we see before us is an unexplained mystery.
Directed by Jason Winer (who did some great work on Modern Family), the film centres on the timid Charlie (Martin Freeman), a librarian who has the misfortune of suffering from cataplexy, where strong emotions like anger, excitement, fear and joy can trigger periods of paralysis, rendering him unconscious. His condition is put to the test when he meets a bar manager named Francesca (Morena Baccarin), who, in contrast to Charlie, is energetic and highly active, but has her own insecurities that prevent long-term romances. Encouraged by his library friends to ask her out before it’s too late, Charlie goes on a date with Francesca where he collapses right before they enter her apartment.
Deciding it is better to keep things platonic, Charlie steers Francesca into the affections of his brother Cooper (Jake Lacy). However, it doesn’t take long before Charlie has second thoughts about this arrangement, with unresolved feelings for Francesca slowly haunting him.
Narrative and Tone
There’s a terrible feeling of indecisiveness about what tonal direction the film needs to take. In the beginning, it behaves like a very quirky, “indie” comedy, but one that favours exposition over subtlety. However, it quickly turns into a tenth-rate sitcom, throwing any semblance of grace out of the window and the broad comedy fails on so many levels, namely because of its lack of…timing. Eventually, the filmmakers suddenly realise that they may need to take the film rather seriously, which ultimately results in an uneven mess, looking like numerous directors took on different scenes.
It is rather embarrassing to see the film be constantly torn between the choice of being a romantic comedy and adopting the guise of a feel-good drama, that it can’t seem to reconcile the two things and ends up being a misjudged and uninspired mess. The story is really no different than any other tired romantic formula, with two people who have nothing in common suddenly realising that they are meant for each other after they have barely been acquainted with one another (only this is one of those special formulas, because at least one of the characters has a medical ailment).
The use of cataplexy to make Charlie a more vulnerable character ultimately amounts to nothing more than a crutch; a plot gimmick that isn’t taken as seriously as it should, and is only around to service the film’s themes. If you take a romantic movie like David Mackenzie’s Perfect Sense, the two lead characters fell victims to a contagious disease that robs them of some of their primal senses and sends them into a whirlpool of emotions. By using the device of a (somewhat) fictitious disease within the realms of science fiction, it fleshed out its meaningful themes with a sense of drive and purpose. Ode to Joy doesn’t recognise the emotional potential of a character stricken with such a dire medical condition that it leaves the film rather skin-deep and weightless, coming off as a rather contrived cartoon.
Sure, there might be something ironic about Charlie getting worked up over the sight of newborn babies, his sister’s wedding, general acts of human kindness or even sexual arousal, and there may be some interesting commentary regarding the idea that a human can only be content when things are dull, unadventurous and unexciting. Unfortunately, these results aren’t even fully achieved, and any significance the film thinks it has, is lost within its uncertainty of how to develop its characters.
It doesn’t help that the dialogue doesn’t always work as well as it should, with characters spouting off expository sentences and “self-help” words of guidance here and there. One cannot place enough emphasis on the lack of subtlety the film has, where just about everything is laid out on the table. Characters become hateful within an instant, simply because they are written to say brutally honest and hurtful things that would have been better left hidden beneath a bed of lies.
Charlie & Francesca
Charlie’s introduction gives us a good idea about what he has to endure for the rest of his life, as we see him go about his daily routine before and after his work at the library. He avoids potential triggers on the streets, and finds solace in a merry-go-round, where he collapses into a state of content. It definitely doesn’t look a picnic to walk in his shoes.
When we first see Francesca, she is with her boyfriend, who brings her to the library where Charlie works simply because he doesn’t want her to lose her head when he breaks up with her (because as some people may forget, one should be as quiet in libraries as they are in cinemas). When he does, she reacts in a most undignified manner, but it also reflects poorly on the direction, writing and, regretfully, even Bacarrin’s performance in that particular scene. It is not a worthy introduction, and invites a host of problems that don’t afford Charlie to have any nuanced growth or sense of choice for the remainder of the film.
There is nothing that defines Charlie other than the fact that his condition is the ultimate inhibition. Similarly, nothing really defines Francesca other than the fact that she chooses guys who won’t offer anything substantial. There are no motivations behind these characters, and while there is some attempt at chemistry between them, it isn’t a romance that we can believe in. It would appear that the love angle is a labourious afterthought, but ultimately denies any opportunity for an interesting character study on Charlie and his struggles. While both Bacarrin and Freeman try their best throughout the film, they don’t make for interesting leads as they have been in other projects.
Cooper
While the film purportedly examines Charlie and Francesca through their individual fears, it makes the fatal mistake of placing heavy focus on Cooper, who is written to behave in accordance to the demands of the plot at any given point and time. If there was ever an antagonist in the film, it would be Cooper. A nice guy at various stages, he eventually becomes an abhorrent and obnoxious presence and you wonder why anyone would want to date him to begin with. It is creative decisions like these that make these characters shallow and simplified, rendering their actions mostly illogical.
In one of the film’s more serious moments, Francesca gets some bad news and Cooper indulges in an overly explicit act of thoughtfulness that makes you question the writers’ thoughtlessness moreso than that of the character in question. It makes the droogs’ behaviour in A Clockwork Orange seem more appropriate and welcome (especially given the provocative subject matter of that film), because this feels too forceful and unbelievable. Even though the film is guilty of being soaked in saccharine, Cooper adds up to the film’s other extremity that is quite mean-spirited in nature, and frankly, embarrassing and off-putting.
Bethany
The film’s only stroke of genius lies in the creation of Bethany, expertly brought to life by Melissa Rauch, who is easily the most interesting presence among the entire cast. Rauch plays up the eccentricity and quirkiness of Bethany with a good deal of attention and care. She comes off as delightfully unpredictable and more grounded a character compared to the other three, who can feel very much like cardboard cutouts. While the film mostly lacks in genuine comedy, the majority of whatever is available comes out of Bethany (the Bob Newhart reference is brilliantly random).
Unlike the others, there is a sense that Bethany has her own dreams and goals, with little details that include her various activities (like yarn-making) adding so much to her design that make her worthy of being a Coen Brothers creation. There is also a sadness to the character that feels very natural and organic, something that is absent from the others. If the filmmakers played their cards right, she would have been as well remembered as Kristin Scott Thomas’s portrayal of Fiona in Four Weddings and a Funeral, which could have worked in the film’s favour as far as the theme of regret is concerned.
Instead, the film tries too hard to sell us on the notion that Charlie is firmly fixated on Francesca, thereby denying us a much more intriguing (and potentially funnier) film.
Ode to Joy: Conclusion
Ode to Joy doesn’t really work as either an efficient comedy or drama (or even a bit of both), with the familiar beats and tropes lacking in any real thought. It is a very moody film that switches gears at its own convenience and simply expects us to buy into whatever situation unfolds in the moment. Even though the ending can be sweet and inspiring in its own way, you have to question the journey we embarked on to find the heart of the film and why it didn’t work as well as it should have. The last shot before the mid-credits scene is quite a funny sight, and you’ll also be left wondering why there weren’t many more of those to begin with.
If you can stomach vomit-inducing lines like the infamous “Love means never having to say you’re sorry” from Arthur Hiller’s bland Love Story, then perhaps Ode to Joy will be a welcome experience. Otherwise, might one recommend something more coherent and sincere like the always uplifting Natural Born Killers?
Watch Ode to Joy
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