Jesse Eisenberg’s "A Real Pain" is a rare film that manages to hold two truths at once: life is absurd, and life is unbearably heavy. Through the mismatched yet inseparably tethered cousins David and Benji, the film takes us on a poignant journey across Poland — but more than that, into the landscapes of grief, anxiety, connection, memory, and identity. It’s a story that is deeply personal yet achingly universal, weaving together humor and sorrow in a way that leaves you both emotionally wrung out and oddly comforted.
At its heart, "A Real Pain" is a tale of contrasts: the quiet introspection of David versus Benji’s chaotic magnetism, the weight of the Holocaust’s unimaginable tragedy juxtaposed against the sometimes ridiculous trappings of modern heritage tourism, and the delicate interplay between love and resentment in familial bonds. Eisenberg, both behind the camera and on screen, demonstrates an acute understanding of these tensions. His own roots seem to give the film a palpable authenticity, a sense that this is not just a story, but a meditation on how history imprints itself on the present.
David and Benji are the kind of cousins who know each other’s strengths, flaws, and tender spots all too well. Their dynamic is hilariously relatable yet profoundly revealing. David, with his obsessive-compulsive tendencies and quiet despair, feels perpetually overshadowed by Benji’s charisma and unpredictability. Benji, on the other hand, hides his own wounds beneath a veneer of irreverence and impulsivity. Culkin’s performance is particularly breathtaking, giving Benji a depth that makes him equal parts endearing and infuriating. Watching the two navigate their shared pain and divergent ways of coping is a masterclass in character-driven storytelling.
One of the film’s most striking achievements is its ability to navigate the delicate terrain of Holocaust remembrance. The group tour, with its sometimes unintentionally comic awkwardness, captures the dissonance of engaging with incomprehensible suffering through the lens of modern tourism. It’s a sharp critique but also a compassionate exploration of how we attempt to connect with history that feels both distant and deeply personal.
Eisenberg skillfully balances this somber backdrop with moments of levity that feel honest rather than flippant. A scene where Benji chastises the overly talkative British tour guide James in a cemetery is both laugh-out-loud funny and painfully awkward, encapsulating the film’s tonal mastery, and the way in which history often gets treated as nothing but a punchline to tourism.
What makes "A Real Pain" so extraordinary is its emotional honesty. Eisenberg doesn’t shy away from the messiness of grief, anxiety, and the personal ruts we often put ourselves in, or the contradictions of human behavior. Instead, he leans into them, creating a film that feels as raw and unpredictable as life itself. There's beauty, there's love, there's so much to admire, but f*ck me can life be a real pain.
There’s a moment near the end, as David and Benji stand in front of their grandmother’s childhood home, that is so quietly devastating it feels like a slow motion punch to the gut. Yet for all its sadness, "A Real Pain" is ultimately a film about grace — the grace we extend to others and the grace we sometimes struggle to find for ourselves.
Clocking in at just 90 minutes, the film is a small but profound masterpiece, a testament to Eisenberg’s evolution as a filmmaker and storyteller. For anyone who has ever grappled with the weight of family, history, or the not-so-simple act of being human, "A Real Pain" offers an invitation: to laugh, to cry, and to hold both emotions in the same breath. It’s a film that lingers, a tender reminder that while pain may be real, so too is connection, love, and the possibility of healing.
9/10
Add comment
Comments