Scott Hicks, Miramax (22/01/10)

Following the tragic death of his wife to an aggressive cancer, successful sportswriter Joe Warr (Clive Owen) is thrust into the unexpected position of full-time caretaker and provider to his young sons while still struggling with the red-raw emotions clawing away within. How does he respond?

“Just say ‘yes.’”

Warr’s hands-off parental philosophy – based upon that of his true-life counterpart, Simon Carr – is certainly unorthodox, but his innovative, anarchic approach isn’t shared by the filmmaking team responsible for the amiable and thoroughly predictable The Boys Are Back.

Having demonstrated his skill with actors and the navigation of complex family dynamics in 1996’s Shine, director Scott Hicks seems at first glance like a perfect fit for Boys familial chamber piece. But while Hicks extracts a respectable set of performances from his ensemble and captures the nice, easy chemistry between the central threesome – Clive Owen’s dad Joe and sons Artie and Harry – Allan Cubitt’s safe, off-the-shelf screenplay does little more than go through the paces of an average weepie.

The film’s cozy, it’ll-all-be-okay intentions are telegraphed straight to the audience early on. When Owen’s Warr witnesses his quietly grieving son Artie’s misbehaviour, he’s asked by Artie whether he can continue and – after pausing for effect as the film’s feather-stroke camera zooms in for the emotional whallop and the music swells – answers with a declarative, uplifting “Yes!”

From here on out, it’s pretty clear things are going to boil down to tears, hugs, teary hugs, some happy tears and a whole lot of capital-L Life Lessons learned by both father and sons… with the occasional spontaneous water balloon or pillow fight thrown in for good, wholesome measure, because apparently you can only hug someone so much before you need to tickle and giggle.

There are a couple all-too-brief moments marked by honest, biting dialogue when the film threatens to inject some much-needed dramatic tension into proceedings, but it quickly retreats, leaving Warr a sanctified (and thusly limp) hero and the film a handsomely shot collection of scenes that play like semi-detached, ‘remember when things weren’t so great?’ memories. Possibly believing that a handful of well-constructed tear-jerking scenes will keep everything afloat, the stagnating predictability that permeates everything else finally serves to render even the supposed knockout scenes inert.

Like the comely female bartender introduced as a fling-worthy companion for our lonely lead before a sudden, unceremonious disappearance (no doubt the victim of an editing room snip to keep our hero pure), The Boys Are Back is a film that frustratingly hints at a greater potential, all of which is swallowed up by gentle, familiar melodrama.

review: Peter Berg

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