All Happy Families (2024)

I wasn’t going to write about my weekend viewing. My partner and I went to see All Happy Families (2024), and at the end of the film, we didn’t rave about it, but nor did we sit in the car and tear it to pieces. We were, however, both smiling. It was what the Guardian describes as ‘likeable’ – a solid three star piece of date-worthy entertainment. I didn’t think I had anything to say about it. However, at the end of the date, there was one scene we both commented on…

The film titles start with the a quote from Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina:

All happy families are alike, but each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

This could set us up for trauma, misery, drama. Instead the opening scene features the not-so-subtle metaphor of a plumber (called Philip Love and played by Antoine McKay) showing Graham Landry (Josh Radnor) a decaying rat in the decaying pipes of his family home. Something is wrong in the very foundations of this house, a family home, that needs refitting, refurbishing and repurposing. But also, the comic tones means that the audience isn’t going to worry too much.

The family – mother, Sue (Becky Ann Baker), father, Roy (John Ashton) and eventually the starry older brother with his successful TV career, Will (Rob Huebel) descend to help with the renovations so that the bottom half of the house can be rented out.

This family is unhappy in a number of simmering, tense ways. A father who gambles, a mother who feels under-appreciated and unnoticed, sibling rivalry between Graham and Will, both with struggling careers, a granddaughter, Evie (played by Ivy O’Brien) who needs to be truly seen.

It is not, however, a family beset by tragedy and horror. This is not a difficult watch. It is instead a familiar discomfort of miscommunication and the undercutting of being able to rely on each other through a lack of attention. They appear to love each other, tolerate each other, just not always liking each other. All actors provide the right level of upset without descending into misery. And the family is held together by the charm and resilience of the mother/grandmother with her big, warm heart and nerves of steel.

It leaves the viewer with a sense that the family will survive – just about – that they will also continue to be happy and unhappy in their own particular and peculiar ways.

And then there was the scene that both of us felt the need to comment on. It was an apology from Granddad to Granddaughter. It was a tender, brief moment – flowers for a teenage girl.

When I got home, it sent me googling for other apologies on screen. But they are few and far between. Instead, my google search was full of the apologies of actors, producers and directors. The usual trite apologies, more about career-saving, rather than acknowledging pain inflicted. Apologies about personal growth, centred on the apologiser's ego rather than their victims' upset.

So many in Hollywood have been found to have so much to apologise for. And maybe this is why the real unequivocal “I did something wrong and I am sorry” apology is so rare on screen. For that reason I really want to commend the writers (Coburn Goss and Haroula Rose) for that moment, that offered real hope and lessened the pain.

Love is the very opposite of never having to say your sorry.

This is an unassuming film with natural performances, easy-going story-telling. And I’m not sorry I went to see it.

If you've enjoyed what you have read, please consider subscribing to my writing on Vocal. If you'd like to support my writing, you can do so by a regular subscription or leaving a one-time tip. Thank you.