The Squid and the Whale

Husband Bernard had one big best seller early in his career, and a stack of rejection letters since. He rides the remains of his past glory teaching undergraduate English to still-adoring youth. Wife Joan’s star is ascendant, with a newly-published tome and a new book deal in the offing. And the expansive Brooklyn house belongs to her. As the lines of combat are demarcated, the older son Walt aligns with Dad and the younger Frank with Mom. The children become nomads, splitting time between the house that is their home and dad’s dismal digs on the wrong side of the park. The boys struggle to adjust to their new reality, sharing divorce stories with their classmates. Walt mimics dad’s crushing judgmentalism, and Frank acts out with confused sexual behavior.

The four principal players turn in sterling performances; both young actors bring poignancy to their characters, and Linney delivers the excellence one has come to expect of her. But special mention must go to Daniels. He delivers a portrayal of Bernard as a man of great pretensions: He believes himself to be enlightened as he clings to vestigial patriarchism; his escalating emotional insecurities lead him to use his sons as pawns in the power play with his wife. His fading powers as writer and provider exacerbate his nascent tendencies toward parsimony, obsession, superciliousness, and smothering control.

Daniels has created an instantly recognizable archetype, magnificently flawed yet still able to elicit sympathetic regard. Director Baumbach captures his native Brooklyn with affection, and evokes 1986 as familiar yet just distant enough. The Squid and the Whale is consummate storytelling and insightful character study.