I'm terrible at predicting movies. Just awful at it. Other people I know can predict plot twists and surprises with astonishing ease- not me. Even the most obvious of narrative developments can often go right over my head, much to my personal disappointment at times. So if I label a movie as predictable, that means something. If I can guess everything that's going to happen before the story actually plays out, that's a genuinely rare occasion. And yes, that's exactly what happened with Kodachrome. As the movie established all of its storylines and characters, I predicted virtually everything that would happen throughout the rest of the movie. From the romance subplot to even the final scene of the film, Kodachrome dabbles in plenty of cliches, preventing the movie from ever really feeling spontaneous or surprising. It is, by all accounts, totally predictable.
And yet, this is the rare predictable film that I also thoroughly enjoyed from start to finish. The familiar structure to director Mark Raso's father-son drama ends up being a surprising asset, giving the film a comfort food flavor that is richly satisfying. Kodachrome tries to be a fairly standard road movie for the first half of its runtime, and it's certainly pleasant in a breezy, easy-going way. But it really kicks into high gear when it becomes a shattering study of grief and acceptance, allowing its trio of tremendous actors to shine through in affecting ways. Jason Sudeikis's trademark smarmy charm gives way to surprising vulnerability, Elizabeth Olsen finds compelling depth in her character, and Ed Harris has a show-stopping emotional moment that makes the whole movie worth it. Kodachrome never makes any kind of attempt to reinvent the wheel, but its empathetic and genuine spirit is wholly rewarding.
Record executive Matthew Ryder (Sudeikis) is in a career rut, struggling under the weight of a changing industry and losing talent left and right. His boss is preparing to fire him, but Matt makes one final plea for his job, promising that he can get a meeting with a major band within two weeks. But just as all hell is breaking loose in his professional life, Matt's personal life takes an unexpected turn for the worse as well. With no warning whatsoever, Zooey Kern (Olsen), a nurse and caretaker, shows up at his office to inform him that his estranged father, Ben (Harris), is dying. A famous photographer and a notoriously terrible father, Ben isn't exactly Matt's favorite person on the planet. Zooey pleads with Matt to see him one last time, but he reiterates over and over that he just doesn't care.
Of course, he caves eventually, because we need a story to happen. Matt visits his dying dad, and their prickly relationship picks up right where it left off- with a whole lot of insults and bad blood. Ben's dying wish is to process some film at the last remaining Kodachrome lab in Kansas, which will be closing in a week's time. He wants Matt to drive him there, something his son isn't too keen on doing. But there's a twist in the plan. If he goes on the trip, Ben's manager, Larry (Dennis Haysbert), reveals that he can get Matt a meeting with the Spare 7's, potentially saving his career. Matt reluctantly agrees, hopping in a car with Ben and Zooey on a trip to Kansas. There are plenty of bumps in the road, but this one final trip ends up being a crucial journey for this troubled father/son duo.
The film rests on the strengths of its lead performances, which isn't necessarily a bad thing when they're this good. Jason Sudeikis has a very specific appeal as a comedic actor, often playing characters who feel like the smartest guy in the room even if they're kinda lazy. It's a careful blend of everyman likability and quick-witted sarcasm, a balance he brings to this movie as well (although Matt is often fairly unlikable as a character). But Kodachrome gives him the chance to be nakedly emotional in a way I haven't seen from him before, perfectly executing big emotional beats that are practically engineered to make the audience cry. Matt has a really effective arc, and the tender moments feel understated and quietly devastating in the best possible way. I was also happy to see Elizabeth Olsen move into the spotlight here, as it almost always feels like she gets the short end of the stick in supporting roles (looking at you, Wind River and Avengers movies). Zooey's numerous complexities aren't fully explored at times, but it's a warm and funny character, made better by Olsen's effortless charisma.
Perhaps the showiest of the main trio is Ed Harris, playing an acidic, gruff cancer patient with a total disregard for common rules of decency and other people's feelings. Ben is so damn unlikable for half of this movie, almost to the point that I was ready to give up on the whole thing entirely. Harris' never-ending stream of pointed insults and verbal jabs are just infuriating after a while, reinforcing Ben's misery and cruelty. But impressively enough, Harris manages to generate a bit of sympathy for this guy in the end, finding a soul and kindness within a deeply broken man. He has a few scenes that are just downright magnificent, one with a kind of emotive power that feels so raw and so truly heartbreaking. Beneath the formulaic plotting and the cliched framework, there's a feeling of sincerity that rings true throughout Kodachrome. Even if the movie's narrative doesn't feel particularly fresh or surprising, it genuinely believes in its own convictions, extended an impressive level of understanding and sympathy to every character in the film.
This sense of sincerity is rooted firmly in the performances, but also in the writing and direction of Jonathan Tropper and Mark Raso, respectively. Tropper's screenplay is decidedly unafraid of delving into familiar territory, confident enough in the journey of its characters and the rapport between the three leads that cliches are nothing to be bothered with. That confidence translates to the execution of the film itself, which feels assured and controlled at every moment, rarely veering into pointless subplots or silly diversions. Meanwhile, Raso makes the most out of a conventional drama, incorporating just enough visual flourishes to make the whole movie click. The opening tracking shot sets the tone early, and the choice to shoot on film gives the movie a texture that shines through even on Netflix.
As I said, Kodachrome is undeniably predictable and familiar, rarely deviating from the pre-ordained course it has set for itself. This is something that is likely to rub some viewers the wrong way, and I can't blame people for that. But this film touched me and moved me in a really major way, so much so that I was willing to disregard my qualms with the basic setup. The third act delivers the emotional crescendo that this story deserves, and Raso properly guides his main trio to top-notch performances. If it isn't a completely memorable journey, it's a wonderfully entertaining diversion, filled with enough genuine empathy and tear-jerking moments to get by.
THE FINAL GRADE: B (7.2/10)
Image courtesy of Netflix
Poster: Netflix/IMDb
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