A.C.O.D. (short for Adult Children Of Divorce), is a comedy with very good intentions, a film that seeks to place under the microscope the first generation to grow up with divorce, not as an exception, but as a part of life. As the credits roll we are shown various testimonials from cast, crew and members of the public recounting the state of their parents marriage. “I am an A.C.O.D,” they say one after another, clearly a significant number, a generation deserving of the focal spotlight here given. However, by the time the credits roll, ACODs will likely have little to champion as their own from this undercooked and underwhelming comedy.
Adam Scott plays Carter, a man attempting to live a life unencumbered by the fallout of a dysfunctional family, helmed by parents more at each other’s throats than pair of bacon-scarfed rottweilers. Adam Scott is himself an ACOD, as is first-time director and co-writer Stu Zicherman, and, as is to be expected from such circumstances, A.C.O.D. is well-performed and some keen observations on the effects of divorce. It also has a WONDERFUL supporting cast.
But this is where the problems start to arise. The brilliance of the supporting players actually serves to highlight how insubstantial the film is. Apart from Adam Scott, everyone feels underused. It would not seem as big a problem that Carter’s unprofessional therapist gets such little screen time and story focus if she weren’t played with relish by Jane Lynch. Ditto Amy Poehler’s conceited step-mother, Clark Duke’s sweet brother, Mary Elizabeth Winstead’s long-suffering girlfriend. Jessica Alba plays a fellow ACOD with aggressive charm. She gets two scenes.
The film hugely suffers from a lack of memorable set-pieces, or memorable anything. Until the film’s closing stretch, nothing happens beyond one conversation after another conversation after another conversation. I already can’t remember half of what happened. A wedding is mentioned, and then never properly seen. We are told that Carter’s mother and father cannot be in the same room without the world coming to an end, and we get barely a glimpse of such animosity. Perhaps this might not be such a crime, but when such parents are played by Catherine O’Hara and Peter Jenkins? A waste. A criminal waste.
It’s a sweet film, but lacking in both comedic highpoints and dramatic lowpoints. It feels boneless, limp, flat; baffling considering the elements at play. The cast deserve more. ACODs deserve more. Sorry movie, it’s not me, it’s you.
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