The beady eyes, the nonexistent chin, the humpback triangle posture and the high-pitched register: Cera has built his career on being the human equivalent of an awkward silence, a walking punchline that seems to exist on a different cosmic plane of oddball charisma. But because of an absurd obsession with wanting to beat his old poker buddies and prove himself as reigning champ in his humdrum hometown, Eric ends up extending his stay the more time he spends with his sisters, the more he realizes that the careful, ironclad distance he has created is at risk of falling apart, exposing the cavern of trauma housed between them. Nobody knows your fears, your neuroses, your hang-ups, and your past better than the people you grew up with, and so if you were trying to be someone you’re not or avoid working through your feelings, it makes sense that your siblings are the people you would take special pains to avoid.

The siblings haven’t seen each other for three years, and save for the occasional, performative phone call, Eric has deliberately created a chasm of distance between them, preferring to throw himself into his unspecified job in the unspecified city he now lives in. Eric is back in the picturesque town he grew up in for a flying visit to see his two sisters, Rachel (Hannah Gross) and Maggie (Sophia Lillis), as well as an old buddy who’s just had a baby. Michael Cera plays Eric, who is really just Michael Cera with a new name (he is also the film’s producer). ‘The Goldman Case’ Review: Cédric Kahn Weaves a Fascinating, True-Life Courtroom Drama Despite the central trio holding each other - and by proxy, the viewer - at arm’s length for the majority of the film’s running time, cynical defenses are chipped away to raise up the sibling relationship as one of the most knotty and meaningful humans can have. But what happens when you grow up, and a family tragedy rips you apart? What do you do when you feel obligated to stay in touch with the siblings you still love, but nostalgia for your childhood has suddenly become too painful a memory to indulge in?ĭustin Guy Defa’s “ The Adults” is an emotional scream transposed through low-decibel vocal fry - an endearing sibling drama full of cringe comedy that lands a miraculous, unexpectedly poignant ending, seemingly out of nowhere. The silly voices, the elaborate bits, the rehearsed dance routines, the specific style of patter that an outsider would find impenetrable. Sibling in-jokes - often first formed when our brains are still goofy and undeveloped, and honed through the hysteria of spending too much time with somebody who shares your DNA - are often the most absurd and abiding.

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