A Real Pain

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell where personal trauma ends and ancestral trauma begins. Jesse Eisenberg’s A Real Pain explores the often baffling dynamics of familial relations amid the most emotionally charged backdrop you could imagine: the Holocaust. The story that emerges is awkward, moving, uncomfortable, funny and difficult to forget – bolstered by a career-defining performance from Kieran Culkin.

The title itself is one of blurred meanings – a real pain of depression, a real pain of Holocaust memories, a real pain in the ass. All these interpretations mingle throughout the story – often in the same scene. Eisenberg and Culkin play two Jewish cousins from New York who go on a Holocaust remembrance tour to Poland in honour of their recently deceased grandmother, and tackle the difficulties of their own relationship in the process.

The story is contained entirely within the confines of the trip, from the day of departure to the day of return, but writer/director Eisenberg’s screenplay folds the characters’ backstories into the proceedings. Eisenberg’s David, an instantly homesick husband and father with a steady job, serves as the safe and predictable foil to Culkin’s wildcard Benji, a charming guy who can take someone from stranger to close friend within five minutes, but can also go from happy to volatile in one minute.

Eisenberg takes us through the entire journey in a brisk 90 minutes, but the film never feels rushed. There’s time enough to take in the old Jewish quarter, the charming restaurant, the hotel rooftop, the historic cemetery, the mural of old life in the ghetto and, indeed, the concentration camp. We get to know the knowledgable gentile tour guide (Will Sharpe) and the tour companions – strangers who will share some extremely intimate moments during a very short period of time. And we get to feel the rhythms of travel and transportation.

Culkin’s talent has been apparent since his run of indie appearances in the late 1990s and early 2000s, most notably 2002’s Igby Goes Down. After spending many years focusing on stage performances, his recent re-emergence on camera led to his Emmy-winning work on the HBO series Succession. But even going against those high expectations, there was a clear feeling when the film premiered at the Sundance Film Festival that Culkin had taken his craft to a new level. He simply commands every scene he’s in, bringing both surprises and empathy to every swing in his character’s mood.

Benji can clearly be infuriating, but he also carries with him a sense of magic. For example, he gets the cousins into a debacle on the train because he finds the idea of riding comfortably on a Holocaust tour offensive. Yet there’s a sense that even when things go wrong, he’s creating a memory for the ages. Left to his own devices, David would have significantly less stress, but also less fun.

This clash of magic and charm versus confrontation and anger is what baffles David the most. Even when he’s off-putting and forcing cringe-inducing conversations, Benji leaves people with warm, friendly feelings toward him. By contrast, David’s polite behavior makes him as memorable as beige wallpaper. However, David isn’t most concerned about his own failures in the personality department, but in his fear that Benji’s depression will get the better of him. The story that emerges ultimately depicts a brotherly love that can’t deny the fears of the present or the atrocities of the past.