A.C.O.D.
A.C.O.D., which stands for Adult Children of Divorce, could be heavy drama. However, the character Carter (Adam Scott) is the perfect A.C.O.D.. He has such a big heart that he can put up with his bickering parents Hugh (Richard Jenkins) and Melissa (Catherine O’Hara) plus stay wryly detached yet still open to trying to love other people.
But this openness has been hard-won. His parents are jerks, and what makes them difficult is that they’re charismatic jerks selfish, self-indulgent Baby Boomers whose motto always was “the heart wants what it wants.” They are monsters, but they are also plausible monsters and first-time director Stu Zicherman never pushes them beyond their should-be limits in order to get bigger or broader laughs.
When Melissa tells her younger son Trey (Clark Duke), “Darling, you were a mistake,” it takes a second or two to process the fact that she actually means it as an attempt at reassurance. A moment like that isn’t funny or sad: It’s shocking and also gets at the core of some human mystery.
The movie opens poorly with a flashback to Carter’s ninth birthday party and some “Arrested Development” aping narration but quickly jettisons that conceit in favor of establishing its own specific tone. “A.C.O.D.” is a sharpish darkish character comedy contentedly dryly tolerant in its point of view; there’s something winningly world weary about how little it demands.
Carter not only has to deal with his family but also with an utterly unprofessional counselor named Dr. Judith (Jane Lynch), an oblivious self-centered quasi scientist who made good money telling his childhood story in book form and now wants even more money for the sequel. And there’s Hugh’s trophy wife Sondra (Amy Poehler) in the mix, which means we’ve got three major comic actresses working at their highest levels here, insisting on the truth of the people they’re playing and letting any laughs take care of themselves.
At first I wasn’t sure what O’Hara was doing with her character; it turned out that she’d just been so far ahead in her playing of this woman that I needed to catch up with Melissa’s brusque imperturbable self-absorption. Lynch is working in the bossy vein that she’s mined on “Glee” and elsewhere, but as with O’Hara there’s a core of human insight to what she’s doing. And Poehler takes a role that might have been mere window dressing and makes it three dimensional this is one messed-up lady.
It has been said many times before, but let me say it again: Comic actors never seem to win awards or even get nominated for the work they do. But it seems perfectly obvious to me that O’Hara, Lynch and Poehler are all operating at as high a level of technique and creativity as, say, Cate Blanchett or Kate Winslet without letting you know that they’re Acting. They’re doing something original here, and they’re matched by Jenkins, who turns his heel of a Dad into a force of nature to match O’Hara’s Melissa; and by Scott, who blankets the whole movie with quiet amounts of charm kindness willing self-effacement.
“A.C.O.D.” was written and directed with confidence, so even if the editing is a bit nervous at times that’s forgivable for a debut. What Zicherman has is delicate; it’s deft; it’s scrupulously fair and it’s smart without being self-conscious about its smarts. This first movie represents a potential archetype for contemporary film comedy.
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