Three Months February holds its breath like an ancient truth in the mind’s quiet corner while poppies open their wild orange mouths to sing what’s always been. March moves like memory— everything certain, everything known, hawks drawing circles in the warming air tracing the paths they’ve always followed. April arrives steady as morning fog, constant as the pause between heartbeats. The finches know something about persistence, how each beat keep cadence that’s always held them. Time flows like water over river stones that have six decades been here. The wildflowers don’t question their returning seasons. They simply continue being who they’ve always been.
Two cousins, an ill-fated trip, and a history they can’t outrun—A Real Pain turns grief into humor without losing its heart.
Jesse Eisenberg’s latest directorial effort lands a delicate balance between comedy and drama, tackling weighty themes with a sharp wit and an unexpected warmth.
Starring Eisenberg himself and Kieran Culkin, the film follows two estranged cousins, Daniel (Eisenberg) and Benji (Culkin), as they travel to Poland to honor their late grandmother. What starts as a misguided journey to reconnect with their roots evolves into a messy exploration of identity, guilt, and the bond that survives even the most broken family ties.
At its core, the film is about contrasts. Eisenberg’s Daniel is uptight, reserved, and neurotic, while Culkin’s Benji is brash, reckless, and unfiltered. The two clash almost immediately, their arguments filled with biting humor that walks the fine line between affection and irritation.
Their dynamic is the film’s greatest strength. Culkin, in particular, shines as the emotionally untethered Benji, delivering a performance that’s equal parts hilarious and heartbreaking. His wit cuts through scenes like a knife, but there’s an undercurrent of vulnerability that keeps him grounded.
Eisenberg’s script is lean, smart, and deliberate. Every line feels intentional, packing meaning into even the smallest exchanges.
The humor is sharp but never cheap; it’s the kind that comes from real pain and real people. And when the laughter subsides, the emotional weight hits harder for it.
The film’s setting adds depth without feeling heavy-handed. As Daniel and Benji bicker their way through Poland, the shadows of their family’s Holocaust history loom large.
Yet Eisenberg resists the urge to moralize. Instead, he lets the past shape the characters’ present, offering glimpses of their pain and confusion without spoon-feeding meaning. It’s an impressive restraint that makes the film feel honest.
However, the pacing of the second act falters slightly. The cousins’ misadventures occasionally feel repetitive, and the film risks losing momentum as it cycles through similar scenes of conflict and reconciliation.
While these moments are necessary to develop their relationship, trimming a few of the interactions would have tightened the narrative and kept the story moving at the same brisk pace as its opening.
The ending, on the other hand, is a masterstroke. Eschewing tidy resolutions, Eisenberg leaves us with a sense of uncertainty that feels both bold and authentic. Daniel and Benji’s journey doesn’t wrap up neatly because life doesn’t either. Instead, the final moments are a quiet, haunting reminder that healing isn’t always clean, and history is never truly left behind.
Eisenberg has crafted a film that’s as funny as it is poignant, as specific as it is universal. A Real Pain is not just a movie about grief and history; it’s a movie about the messy, painful, and ultimately beautiful process of being human.
