Don Shanahan
As a school teacher by day dealing with elementary students and their parents, I have seen and labeled living embodiments of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s well-known and often modified expression of “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” In the majority of those situations, everyone’s looking at the apples. The children are the ones analyzed to the nth degree. Folks think their displayed behaviors, personalities, flaws, talents, and more can still be shaped before they grow and become their own trees. The new family drama Ezra is immersed in that type of examination, but with a substantial caveat.
In those scenarios where everyone’s concerned about the specific apple, it’s not often that someone shifts their focus to perform the same inquiry on the tree that grew the apple. To take it even further, they could look at the tree that came before that one too. All of those implications escalate when the traits at hand land on the autistic spectrum, where the majority of cases are in fact hereditary. Between innate genetics and external upbringing, looking at the possible exceptionalism of the genetic parents and grandparents can go a long way to explain or interpret the central child apple that everyone is concerned about.
That is the imperfect and crooked road taken by Ezra helmed by actor/director Tony Goldwyn (The Last Kiss, Someone Like You). The sincere film dives into the complicated dynamics within the extended family of the titular young boy. Embodied by pre-teen neurodiverse actor William Fitzgerald in his feature film debut, Ezra is diagnosed with autism and is indeed the kind of apple where the tree that bore it demands its own attention.
Ezra Brandel splits time with his divorced mother and father in Hoboken, New Jersey, played by real-life Hollywood couple Rose Byrne and Bobby Cannavale. Byrne’s Jenna is the primary parent who has done her best to put routines, safeguards, and accommodations in place for her son as she’s making a go of things as a realtor with a new lawyer boyfriend named Bruce (Goldwyn himself). Cannavale’s Max is a hot mess of a different story. He’s a demoted comedy TV writer who is trying to build his reputation back as a standup comedian with an acidic edge while living with his doorman father Stan, played by the one and only Oscar winner Robert De Niro. Unlike Jenna, he’s the playtime parent who totes Ezra around to movie trivia nights, nightclubs, and venues past the typical bedtime and age-appropriateness of a young man his age.
Most of Max’s current standup set involves telling elaborate stories and making crass jokes about his autistic son. True to the late-night crowd, the routine earns its shock value and self-deprecating laughs. When the cameras of Ezra get right into the stage lights, microphone proximity, and Max’s drink-fueled sweat, we get the feeling Max going this dark and personal with his creative talent is a form of venting. However, it also doesn’t take a close read to see that fishing for laughs like this is a clear front for his own sadness and insecurity. Most curious of all, Ezra actually approves. To him, it’s attention from a parent and a step of self-deprecating realization for himself as well.
Beyond the laughs, Ezra is teetering on a regression from several directions. First, he’s been expelled as a danger to himself and others from his general education public school. Furthermore, despite handling their son’s highs and lows for years, both parents have refused the constantly suggested special education services and eschewed any and all medication intervention. When Ezra bolts out of the house and gets involved in a traffic accident, child protective services call all of these missteps and more into question and force the parents’ hands into those unwanted avenues.
When these legal axes fall, the person who takes it the worst is Max. Despite his manager (fellow Academy Award winner Whoopi Goldberg) scoring a guest spot for Jimmy Kimmel Live!, his denial of it all ignites his own reckless issues with anger and authority which threaten to ruin his career revival. Soon enough, he boils his own hot water to earn a restraining order from seeing his son, which crushes him. Damning the consequences, Max poaches Stan’s classic car, nabs his son, and makes a run for it, turning Ezra into an unorthodox road movie.
Ezra, as a movie with these characters holding positions as conduits and mouthpieces, hopscotches between tricky stances when it comes to raising neurodiverse kids and the proverbial “what’s best for them” debate. On one hand, there’s a welcoming eclecticism characterized by William Fitzgerald of a young man who is magnetic and special because of the opposite—and even incorrect—methods raising him. We root for his growing gumption and independence, even if he clearly needs specialized care. Moreover, we pine for what it will take to change mom, dad, and grandpa’s minds.
At the same time, Cannavale’s Max piles on one damaging choice, certifiable blunder, and broken law after another for nearly an entire movie. Between assault, restraining orders, and now an amber alert abduction, Max zooms ahead as the bigger “problem,” if you really want to call it that, for this family. Even though the film is properly questioning his problematic issues, Ezra still wants us to root for his zany and punishment-free success.
Call that a slippery slope in the engagement department for Ezra, despite some very winning performances. Cannavale rides his character’s colossal tailspin with pure commitment. The volatile energy he brings shifts so easily to radiating paternal care that you cannot help but build some empathy for the maligned Max. Robert De Niro’s presence as the next tree in the orchard dropping apples magnifies the continuing blame, avoidance, bad advice, old wounds, and misplaced advocacy. To keep things light, Vera Farmiga and Rainn Wilson submit endearing supporting performances as safehouse old friends of Max’s on his evasive journey with episodes of helpful levity.
Written by screenwriter and playwright Tony Spiridakis (Ash Tuesday, If Lucy Fell) pulling from his own relationship with his autistic son, Ezra holds a labor-of-love quality for all involved. Robert De Niro also has an autistic son, Goldberg took the role sight unseen for her Ghost co-star Goldwyn, and the presence of Cannavale and Byrne together make this a family affair. All of the adults gel and wrap their arms around William Fitzgerald, who is a brilliant stroke of authentic casting. While this movie hinges on dad’s mistakes, Ezra’s arc of little achievements is always the best.
Coming from such collaborative efforts, Ezra was always going to stay light (albeit R-rated for language) by taking its mini-adventure route. In doing so, the movie skirts and glosses slightly over the ponderous reality and ugly truths of addressing hardships and traumas. Hard conversations take place that certainly mull them all over, but any heavy or corrective healing—and the centuries-worth of needed therapy—will have to happen in another movie as the bow of redemption arrives pretty easily. Rightfully so, the prevailing message of Ezra becomes seeing your kid’s needs and celebrating their strengths, no matter the traits or labels. We can stay positive and afford the same to the movie itself.
