Ever been to a pompous party made worse by some earnest dope strumming acoustic ballads to a small crowd of fawning admirers? Well, Smart People is that shindig and Nuno Bettencourt, former Extreme guitarist and composer of the film’s score, is that insufferable jerk. For Noam Murro’s prototypical indie drivel about a group of dysfunctional intellectuals behaving foolishly, Bettencourt swamps everything in an obnoxious brand of heartfelt fingerpicking mush. His sonic assault provides insistently irritating musical accompaniment to a grating narrative about misanthropic Carnegie Mellon English professor Lawrence Wetherhold (Dennis Quaid), his robotic Young Republican daughter, Vanessa (Ellen Page), his son (Ashton Holmes), who is disinterested in the family, and his scam-artist adopted brother, Chuck (Thomas Haden Church). The fact that these eccentrics are simultaneously smart and not-so-smart gives the title its cutie-pie ambiguity, but there’s no question that the film itself is a dreary amalgam of indie clichés made bearable only by Church’s ability to wring mild humor from a slacker role schematically engineered for adorably sarcastic comedic relief. Smart People is a borderline-excruciating exercise in trying to replicate the eccentric charm of Little Miss Sunshine, pulling its nasty punches—specifically, Lawrence’s heartlessness—in order to make room for third-act uplift, and defining its protagonists through idiosyncratic (and metaphorical) habits and hang-ups that reek of screenwriting affectation. As Vanessa, Page does Juno MacGuff via Alex P. Keaton, meaning her college-bound conservative is a smarty-pants nightmare prone to saying things like, “The socio-sexual mores have really shifted,” and who’s rightly dubbed a “monster” by Chuck. Lawrence’s relationship difficulties with a former student and ER doctor (Sarah Jessica Parker) afford the requisite conflict that leads to climactic catharsis and togetherness, which comes shortly after Lawrence tells his daughter, “I don’t think you’re happy, Vanessa,” after which she replies, in the script’s groan-worthy style, “Well, you’re not very happy, and you’re my role model.” Then again, such twaddle is about all that can be expected from a film unimaginative enough to stage a classroom discussion about misery and then, with Bettencourt’s tripe rising to a crescendo, solemnly cut away to all its lonely characters.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.