Downhill (2020)
(On Cable TV, September 2020) I never watched Force Majeure, the Swedish film that inspired Downhill: Being the story of a father who has to face down his family after fleeing an impending disaster, it felt too far away on the awkwardness scale. After watching Downhill, however, I’m curious to see how it did better than its remake because the American version just feels pitiable. Featuring Will Ferrell and Julia Louis-Dreyfus in one of their least funny performances in ages, Downhill sinks humiliation “comedy” to new depths as it charts the disintegration of a marriage following an act of cowardice by the father of a family of four. Taking aim at the traditional “protector” role of the father, Downhill never goes beyond that, nor does it allow its characters a redemption arc. It just gets more and more uncomfortable until we’re left wondering, “and then what”? I don’t always agree that movies should be rated on the effectiveness in fulfilling their intentions: I think that, at some point, we should also rate the film based on how we feel about those intentions. So Downhill means to be uncomfortable and is uncomfortable and then what? What for? I can be hideously uncomfortable on my own, thank you very much. Despite a few amusing moments, many of them in Louis-Dreyfus’ vicinity, Downhill is the kind of film where you start wondering why it exists. The ending (exception made of the final kicker meant to show that everyone jumps under the right circumstances) comes too quickly to have any sense of meaningful dramatic progression: if the lesson is that their marriage is doomed, then that lesson could have come an hour earlier. OK, that’s it: I’ve got to see the original to see how it did better than that.