50/50
Directed by: Jonathan Levine
Written by: Will Reiser
Starring: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Seth Rogen, Bryce Dallas Howard, Anna Kendrick, Angelica Huston, Phillip Baker Hall, Matt Frewer
It’s difficult to believe that actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt (he turned 30 this past February) has more than 60 credits to his name, most on television, where he co-starred on THIRD ROCK FROM THE SUN for six years, and, for the last decade where he’s honed his acting skills, (mostly) independent film (INCEPTION an obvious exception), he’s received critical praise for one performance after another, each one as deserved as the last. In his latest, award-worthy role as the lead character in 50/50 (formerly “I’M WITH CANCER”), a cancer-centered comedy-drama written by Will Reiser and directed by Jonathan Levine’s (THE WACKNESS, ALL THE BOYS LOVE MANDY LANE), Gordon-Levitt succeeds in once again creating a layered, textured role, one that perfectly suits Reiser’s tonally balanced screenplay and Levine’s unobtrusive, unpretentious direction.
When we first meet Gordon-Levitt’s character, Adam (loosely based on Reiser’s real-life experience with cancer at the age of 24), he’s a reasonably happy, reasonably satisfied twenty-something. He has a job as a radio producer for a Seattle-based public radio station, an attractive artist-girlfriend, Rachael (Bryce Dallas Howard), and a best friend, Kyle (Seth Rogen, a longtime friend of Reiser’s), semi-eager to chauffeur Adam from and to work (and other activities). Adam doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke (cigarettes or weed), and jogs to keep fit. Persistent back pain eventually sends Adam to his doctor where, much to his shock and surprise (not ours, of course), he discovers he has a rare form of cancer, a tumor in his back. First up for Adam: chemotherapy (surgery is a last, desperate option). While the doctor refuses to give Adam the odds of surviving, a quick search on WebMD (over-obvious product placement in case you were wondering) reveals he has a 50/50 chance of survival (thus the title).
Everything understandably changes for Adam. Work becomes a secondary, if not a tertiary consideration. While he gives Rachael the option to bail on their still relatively unserious relationship, she claims she’s all in (she’s not, but more about that anon). The perpetually crude, rude, vulgar, sex-obsessed Kyle’s definitely all in when it comes to supporting Adam during the latter’s increasingly debilitating chemotherapy treatments. Narratively, Kyle exists primarily as comic relief, adding levity to gravity, but Adam’s not above (or below) injecting a one-liner at the most inappropriate time. It’s part of his coping mechanism and through him, the film’s take (and presumably, Reiser and Rogen’s). Additional levity arrives in the form of Katherine (Anna Kendrick), a young therapist-in-training (Adam’s her third patient). Katherine’s still navigating the ins-and-outs of doctor-patient behavior and relationships, but it offers
Like all good drama, 50/50 has character-based conflict and that conflict serves multiple purposes, to bring Adam through his personal and physical crises (yes, we’re talking character arc here), to work through the various stages of grief (little anger, at least at first, much numbness and repression most of the time), work out his complex, contradictory relationship with his mother, Diane (Anjelica Huston), and his seemingly deep, but actually hollow relationship with Rachael, who turns out to be less, far less than the girl of his dreams, leading naturally enough, to one of 50/50’s central themes (i.e., who’s with you and who’ll bail on you at the first sight of adversity). It may not be a particularly deep theme, but it’s an honest one. It’s also one Reiser and Levine explore without resorting to overt sentimentality or heavy-handed dialogue pointers.
Reiser and Levine’s subtle approach to what could have been maudlin material in other hands (and has been, many, many times) is complemented by Gordon-Levitt’s understated, minimalist performance as Adam. Gordon-Levitt has mastered the art of saying more by doing less. He understands what a seemingly simple gesture, a slight change in body language, or a slight modification in vocal inflection can convey to moviegoers sitting on the other side of the celluloid (or digital) screen. Rogen doesn’t exactly stretch as Kyle, but for the first time in 2-3 years, Rogen’s broad, coarse shtick and serves the character he’s playing and the part that character plays in the film (i.e., deflecting and distracting Adam from thinking about his potentially terminal illness).
Levine also coaxes fine performances from a talented cast, including Bryce Dallas Howard in another thankless role, Anna Kendrick as the charmingly awkward therapist-in-training and Phillip Baker Hall and Matt Frewer in small, but still significant roles as cancer patients Adam befriends. Angelica Huston also shines in a handful of emotion-wrenching scenes, but that’s certainly no surprise. Levine and Reiser only stumble when, rather than end 50/50 on a fadeout (to say more would spoil a key scene), they instead tack on another, too literal scene. It might give the characters and, by extension, the audience, closure, but it also dilutes the previous scene’s emotive power.
