By M. Faust

A Real Pain, now playing at the Amherst Theater, has been garnering near-universal praise as one of the year’s best films, a likely Oscar nominee for writer-director Jesse Eisenberg and star Kieran Culkin. I concur in all of the above. If you’re already aware of this, however, I advise you to temper your expectations a little bit before going to see it. Unlike too many award-season presentations, this isn’t a movie that hits you over the head with self-importance. It’s a modest little drama (barely 90 minutes), played with a great deal of humor, that observes more than it preaches. 

Eisenberg and star Culkin play David and Benji, cousins who grew up together but have lately drifted apart. David is a moderately successful New Yorker, with a wife and daughter and a good job selling online advertising. Benji is single, living in Schenectady and not doing much of anything besides smoking dope. 

The occasion for their reunion is the recent death of their grandmother. She left them some money to use to visit the town in Poland where she grew up, and the site of the Majdanek concentration camp where she was interned. They are part of a small tour group led by a British academic (Will Sharpe) that includes a recently divorced woman (Jennifer Grey), an older couple (Liza Sadovy, Daniel Oreskes) and a survivor of the Rwandan genocide who converted to Judiasm after relocating the US (Kurt Egyiawan). 

From the beginning, it is clear that despite their shared history these cousins are very different people. David is sensitive, retiring, a bit neurotic, while Benji is animated and vocal, saying anything that comes to mind regardless of the effect it might have on whoever is listening. 

As they work out their differences, we’re inclined to think that the film’s title is meant to deride their problems as insignificant in the face of the unthinkable horrors of Majdanek. But that’s not the case. While Eisenberg (who drew on his own family history in writing this) poses the question, how can we live with the knowledge of such human evil, he also recognizes that personal pain is no less of a burden, whatever shape it may take. Benji’s unrestrained outbursts mask real trauma, while David’s placid exterior is no guarantee that his soul is as untroubled. 

And let me say again that while the movie deals with serious themes, it is often very funny. It is largely Culkin’s show and he makes the most of it, but he wouldn’t be nearly as effective without Eisenberg’s counterpoint. A Real Pain is a real gem. 

(A side note: I was going to mention Benji’s incessant use of the word “fuck” until I realized that I made the same comment twice in the past two weeks, about characters in Anora and The Line. The traditional way to describe this is “dropping F bombs,” but in cases like these I don’t find that an accurate phrase. It used to be that the word “fuck” was rarely used in public discourse and therefore shocking: to “drop an F bomb” was to seek a big explosive reaction. That to me is a valid use of profanity: like certain spices, you use only a little to get a big effect. The way the word is used in these and many other movies — and, I recognize, by a lot of people — is more like the little firecrackers that a character in the climactic scene of Boogie Nights keeps shooting off. After the first few they stop having much of an effect other than as a cumulative irritation. It reminds me of a an article I read recently by advocate for the health benefits of turmeric, who claimed that he put it in everything he ate. I like turmeric just fine, but I can’t imagine having it overwhelm everything I eat.)