The grown-up Generation X-ers that make up the hipper-than-thou McSweeney’s set have always, in literary terms, aspired to the condition of Peanuts. Their protagonists may not get to say ‘Good grief’ but like Charlie Brown, the poor saps radiate an existential haplessness. Life is just something that keeps happening to them.
The Zen slackers at the heart of Away We Go are so exemplary in this respect, you can half-pretend the film is what happened after a grown up Peppermint Patty and Charlie Brown got married. We can think of no higher compliment to bestow on any work of art.
John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph are beautifully restrained as Burt and Verona, a thirtysomething Colorado couple expecting their first child. When his parents (played with relish by Jeff Daniels and Catherine O’Hara) unexpectedly announce that they’re moving to Belgium, the younger couple has no real reason to stay. Blessed with freelance careers – he sells insurance, she illustrates medical textbooks - they hit the road in search of the ideal place to bring up their baby.
Their odyssey takes in hilarious neo-hippies (Maggie Gyllenhaal and Josh Hamilton) in Wisconsin, an adopted rainbow family in Montreal, and a terrifically dysfunctional unit in Phoenix, headed up by a monstrous Alison Janney. A whip smart minimalist screenplay by – quelle surprise – Dave Eggers never allows the grotesquerie to eclipse the sweetness.
Enhanced by killer performances and directed as a series of gorgeous, commonplace tableaux by Sam Mendes, Away We Go is one adorable road movie and an unofficial riposte to Revolutionary Road. Moving, cheery and authentic, this is everything Mr. Mendes’ earlier wretched chamber piece was not. More stuff like this, please!