How One Role Redeems a Film Where Nothing Works - "A Real Pain"

Jesse Eisenberg’s A Real Pain (2024) arrives with a premise that promises emotional depth and introspection: two estranged cousins, David (played by Eisenberg himself) and Benji (Kieran Culkin), embark on a Jewish heritage tour in Poland to honor their late grandmother, only to confront their familial tensions and personal traumas against the backdrop of history. On paper, it’s a compelling setup for a poignant comedy-drama. In execution, however, the film stumbles under the weight of its own ambitions, leaving much of its narrative, direction, and supporting elements feeling disjointed or uninspired. Were it not for Kieran Culkin’s electrifying performance as Benji, A Real Pain might have been a forgettable misfire. Instead, his role single-handedly salvages the film, transforming it into something worth watching despite its myriad shortcomings.

Let’s start with where the film falters. Eisenberg, doubling as writer and director, seems unsure of the tone he wants to strike. Is A Real Pain a comedy about familial dysfunction, a drama about generational trauma, or a travelogue reflecting on Jewish identity? The film flirts with all three but commits to none, resulting in a narrative that feels scattered and superficial. The script, while occasionally witty, lacks the sharpness or emotional resonance to tie its themes together. Scenes meant to explore the cousins’ past or their connection to their grandmother’s legacy often feel perfunctory, as if Eisenberg is checking boxes rather than diving into the messy, complex emotions at play. The Poland setting, rich with historical weight, is underutilized—reduced to a picturesque backdrop rather than a living, breathing part of the story.

Eisenberg’s direction mirrors this indecisiveness. The pacing drags in moments that should feel urgent, and the visual style is oddly restrained, lacking the flair or personality to elevate the material. The supporting cast, including Will Sharpe as a tour guide and Jennifer Grey in a fleeting role, is given little to do, their characters existing more as props than as fully realized individuals. Even Eisenberg’s own performance as David, the more grounded and reserved cousin, feels stiff and overly subdued, failing to provide a compelling counterpoint to the chaos around him. In short, A Real Pain struggles to find its footing, leaving viewers with a sense of unrealized potential—a film where nothing quite works as it should.

Enter Kieran Culkin. As Benji, the free-spirited, unfiltered, and deeply wounded cousin, Culkin delivers a performance so magnetic that it overshadows every flaw in the film. From the moment he appears on screen, lounging at JFK Airport with a mix of nonchalance and simmering discontent, he commands attention. Benji is a walking contradiction—charming yet abrasive, hilarious yet heartbreaking—and Culkin inhabits him with a raw, organic energy that feels entirely unscripted. His ability to shift seamlessly from biting sarcasm to vulnerable silence is nothing short of remarkable, giving the film its only consistent emotional anchor.

What makes Culkin’s performance so vital is how it fills the gaps left by the film’s weaker elements. Where the script fails to explore Benji’s inner turmoil explicitly, Culkin conveys it through subtle gestures—his restless fidgeting, the flicker of pain in his eyes, the way his voice cracks just slightly when he talks about his grandmother. Where Eisenberg’s direction lacks dynamism, Culkin injects it with his unpredictable physicality and razor-sharp delivery. And where the story struggles to connect its themes of grief, identity, and reconciliation, Culkin’s portrayal of Benji ties them together instinctively, making the audience feel the weight of his character’s journey even when the film itself doesn’t earn it.

One scene in particular encapsulates how Culkin saves A Real Pain. During a visit to a concentration camp, Benji’s discomfort with the tour’s sanitized presentation erupts into a confrontation with the guide. It’s a moment that could have felt forced or melodramatic in lesser hands, but Culkin plays it with such visceral authenticity—his voice trembling with rage and sorrow—that it becomes the film’s emotional peak. Suddenly, the stakes feel real, the history tangible, and Benji’s pain a lifeline for a narrative adrift. Without Culkin, this scene—and the film as a whole—would collapse under its own weight.

Critics and audiences alike have hailed Culkin’s work as one of the standout performances of 2024, and it’s easy to see why. He doesn’t just elevate A Real Pain; he rescues it. The film’s accolades, including Culkin’s awards season buzz, are a testament to his ability to turn a middling effort into something memorable. In a story where nothing else seems to click—where the direction is flat, the script is uneven, and the supporting roles are underdeveloped—Culkin’s Benji is the spark that keeps it alive. He proves that sometimes, one extraordinary performance can be enough to redeem a film that otherwise falls short of its promise.

In the end, A Real Pain is a paradox: a movie that doesn’t work, saved by a single role that does. Kieran Culkin’s Benji is not just the heart of the film; he’s its pulse, its soul, and its saving grace. Without him, it would be a forgettable footnote in 2024’s cinematic landscape. With him, it’s a flawed but unforgettable showcase of what a truly great actor can do.