Sometimes one of the most clever things a movie can do is have its hero act in a way that isn’t heroic, or admirable, or even very likeable. In “Ezra,” Max Bernal (Bobby Cannavale), a comedian with a chip on his shoulder (he wrote late nights; now he plays avant-garde sets at places like the Comedy Cellar), is in a state of confused fury over what to do about his son, Ezra (William A. Fitzgerald), an autistic 11-year-old owl. Ezra attends public school in Hoboken, New Jersey, where he acts out, gets bullied, and responds to people on his own intelligent but disconnected wavelength. His autistic behaviors are not particularly serious. He speaks in cryptic pop culture quotes, he’s afraid that metal cutlery will hurt his mouth, and he refuses to look you in the eye or allow himself to be hugged.
But increasingly, he fails to fit in. Administrators recommend that he be transferred to a school for students with special needs. Max, sitting in the principal’s office with his soon-to-be ex-wife, Jenna (Rose Byrne), doesn’t want to hear about it. He accuses the doctor who would put Ezra on Risperdal of being a “drug dealer”, and when the doctor responds by saying it’s clear where Ezra gets his difficult temperament, Max attacks him.
And that’s the least of his bad decisions. Slapped with a restraining order, which prohibits him from seeing his son for three months, Max sneaks into Jenna’s house in the middle of the night and kidnaps Ezra, taking him on an impromptu road trip to Michigan. When the plan – not that it’s a plan, but rather a desperation move from hell – is discovered, everyone from Jenna to crusty hillbilly Max (Robert De Niro), whose house he’s staying with, thinks that what he is doing is insane. . And the public has little reason to disagree.
But what we see, deep down, is where Max is coming from. He’s a selfish hothead, with his own demons, but he’s angry about something specific and current: the educational/bureaucratic/pharmaceutical culture obsessed with “safety” – by the application of a matrix of rules and regulations that increasingly dictate what a parent must do. as Max can and cannot do. Max feels like his authority, and perhaps even his connection to his son, is being taken away from him. Additionally, as someone who is self-righteous about his own feelings of exclusion, he thinks it is vital that Ezra is not ostracized because of his autism. Max thinks his son should be in the flow of things, surrounded by “normal” kids.
There are a lot of issues to debate here (some are culture war questions), and it is to the credit of Tony Goldwyn, the director of Ezra, and screenwriter Tony Spiridakis that the film does not address not these questions. with a chip on it It is shoulder. This doesn’t mean Max is right or Max is wrong. This means that when you have a child with special needs, these kinds of feelings can arise within you, and the fact that Max cultivates them in a decision that seems like a disaster is what keeps our interest. The burden of proof now falls on him.
Bobby Cannavale is the kind of actor who can act “hothead” in his sleep, but in “Ezra” he gives a slick, layered performance. Max, with his burning eyes (in his stand-up act he cultivates the aura of an assassin), looks out and sees a world full of Karens, like the nightclub owner who tells him that he should not drop their child on a bar stool. to watch her midnight set (something she’s probably right about). And he keeps attacking them. But what motivates him is the tangle of agony he feels about everything about his son: the fact of his autism, the impossibility of knowing how to help him feel more adjusted and his frustration with an institutionalized system that is far from perfect. – but since when have our society’s public education protocols ever been perfect? (And how could they be?)
According to the film, there is no “right answer,” but the answer Max found is a heart-and-gut-triggered response: he needs to be with his son. Not just to exist with him but to be with him. The film is about Max and Ezra discovering what it is, and newcomer William A. Fitzgerald, with his shy smile, gives a performance full of discovery. It shows you Ezra’s blind reactions, the excessive scholarly consciousness that shines through them and the soul of affection that is buried beneath them.
I wish I could say that these two found redemption in an incredibly organic and spontaneous way. But where a film like “Rain Man,” while a big studio hit, presented the interplay between Dustin Hoffman’s gnarly, solipsistic, numbers-obsessed Raymond and Tom Cruise’s sweet yuppie Charlie as a A slow exploration of human connection, the plot of “Ezra” is actually much more dependent on Hollywood devices.
In rural Michigan, Ezra learns how to look a horse in the eye, use silverware, and hug a friend. Meanwhile, Max’s estranged wife and father are on his tail, caught in their own jarring miniature road movie. Byrne’s Jenna is all traumatized common sense, and De Niro plays Stan, a former chef who kicked out Max’s mother, as (surprise) a tough guy who’s too 1950s to want to talk about autism. But when he finally catches up with Max, he gives a big speech – an apology for his entire life – that demonstrates everything he’s learned. De Niro delivers it so well that you accept it, and maybe even shed a tear, even as you think, “That’s a little too easy.”
They all head to Los Angeles and “Jimmy Kimmel Live!”, which has reserved a spot for Max (after Jimmy sees a tape of Max having a meltdown over Ezra in the middle of a set) . The film itself seems to be heading towards a heartbreaking ending, and it is, even if it’s not the one you’d expect. I guess today that passes for independent integrity. But the underlying integrity of Ezra, what makes it an honest film despite some of the formulas, is that its message about how to help children with special needs is that there is no magic way . Beyond celebrating them for who they are and showing them who you are.