2 of 3

Benicio Del Toro as Jerry Sunborne, sharing a moment with Audrey's son Dory (Micah Berry)

At the same time, Audrey can't figure out whether she wants to be David for Jerry, or Jerry to be David for her. Certainly having Jerry around is good for the kids, six-year-old Dory (Micah Berry) and nine-year-old Harper (Alexis Llewellyn), whom Jerry knows by osmosis even before they meet. To the children as well as to Audrey, Jerry represents that part of Brian which he knew; but then comes a moment when Jerry fleetingly outdoes the departed, which is more than Audrey can bear.

The emotional territory is similar to Bier's Danish-language film Brothers, in which a responsible family man is struck down, leaving a prodigal brother to do his best to step up to the plate and try to offer the hurting family whatever consolation and support he can. In both films, the black-sheep character is at least partly a surrogate for the fallen man, and the issue of emotional entanglements between the wife and the other man is at least raised, though fortunately Bier seems to be more interested in tense emotional ambiguities than in simplistic payoffs.

Both films also subject a male protagonist to a grueling trial by fire and failure before ultimately ending on a note of hope and redemption. The theme of decency, of doing the right thing, figures prominently in both films.

Jerry helps Audrey stay 'connected' to Brian's past

Things We Lost lacks some of the nuance of Brothers. Where the earlier film substantially cross-examined the family man's uprightness, essentially reversing the brothers' roles, in Things We Lost Brian is nearly flawless—a devoted husband and father, a loyal friend, an outstanding provider, even dying a hero's death.

The dialogue is sometimes too explicit and on the nose, not trusting viewers to make connections on their own. In the opening lines, Brian uses the word "fluorescent," which he explains to his six-year-old son Dory means "lit from within." Not content with that, the screenplay has Dory ask brightly, "Am I fluorescent?" so that his daddy can assure him that, yes, he is.

Other details and moments are sharply observed: Dory's nightmares, in which Daddy is the monster; Jerry late at night rifling through his meager belongings hoping against hope for a forgotten stash; a hilariously blunt exchange between Jerry and a neighbor over personal issues and furniture. Though not always faithful in small things, Things We Lost is faithful in much. The individual moments are sometimes off, but the large emotional resonances are right.

While there's not a bad performance in the film, the clear standout is Del Toro, who transcends the tics and mannerisms of a junkie to play a fully felt character with a problem rather than simply playing the problem. Berry persuasively reconciles her character's conflicting moods and reactions; Alison Lohman makes an impression in a supporting role as a member of Jerry's NA group. Bier's directorial style, which includes handheld cameras and intimate closeups sometimes framing a single eye, draws us into a film that is more about how grief, loss and relationships feel than what happens next.

Talk About It

1. Have you lost anyone close to you? Did this have any long-term effects on your relationships with other survivors? Did it draw people closer together? Push them further apart? Did both happen? What other long-term consequences were there?
2. Audrey tells Jerry that anyone but Brian would have given up on him long ago, adding that she certainly would. When, if ever, is it okay to give up on someone? If someone is engaged in self-destructive behavior, which do you think is better: to cut them off in a "tough love" way, or to keep up a relationship and open communication in spite of their behavior? Does it depend on circumstances? When can cutting someone off be harsh and unloving? When can keeping up a relationship be a form of enabling?

next page... |  2 of 3