Having never read Joyce Maynard's novel that Reitman is basing this on, it's
impossible to say whether it's as laughable as the adaptation, but one has to
assume it is. It treads on the same treacly territory as the worst of Nicholas
Sparks, and features a stunning lack of urgency that leaves the film as dull as
it is preposterous. Set in melancholic 1986, Winslet plays the
clinically-depressed Adele, who can barely function in the wake of her divorce.
She can't even be bothered to leave the house except to get groceries once a
month, and when she does the nervous shakes in her hand tell all. Her son Henry
(Gattlin Griffith) is a quiet sort, and has learned to become the new man of
the house. One scene, meant to be heartfelt but is really just creepy, has him
agreeing to be "husband for a day", doing all the things a man would
do around the house....until he realizes he's unequipped for what Adele really
needs. In short: she's horny, and the film dances around the subject like the
audience are a bunch of children with virgin ears.
During one rare excursion to a shopping mall, Henry is approached by Frank
(Brolin), a bleeding man who insists on being given a ride. The threat of
violence forces Adele to give in and drive him to their home, but fortunately
he turns out to be an ex-con.....with a heart of pure gold! Yay! It helps that
he looks like Josh Brolin because that makes it easier to swallow when Frank
becomes the husband and father they've been waiting for. Why, the guy is like
Bobby Flay and Mr. Fix-It all wrapped into one. Soon he's fixing them
breakfast, baking pies, and (in a purely non-sexual way) checking the pipes and
clearing the gutters. Oh screw it, it's totally sexual. Every now and then he's
forced to tie them up, like when friends (played by the woefully underused JK
Simmons and Brooke Smith) drop by unexpectedly. Not that being reminded they
are being held hostage matters because Adele needs a manly touch and Henry
needs someone to play catch with.
Draped in dreariness and angst, the film is also weighed down by ponderous
narration courtesy of Tobey Maguire as the older Henry. Basically he's there to
reminisce happily about those days when his family was held hostage and forced
to become a semblance of a family. Yeah, it's as absurd as it sounds, paying
some sort of weird homage to Stockholm Syndrome victims everywhere. And yet, as
the film grows sillier, it still remains fairly predictable in attempts to
forgive these unbelievably misguided characters. Adele's ex-husband (Clark
Gregg) turns out to be a jerk, and Frank's crime involves the death of his
cheating wife. So she must have deserved it and that makes Frank a perfectly
suitable suitor. 
Winslet and Brolin sell the heck out of this thing, though, and their
passion at least feels genuine even if nothing else does. She seems to be
walking in much the same desperate territory as in Little
Children, while he's clearly been reading from the Bridges of
Madison County playbook. Abridged version. Considering the hot start to Reitman's career with Juno and Up in the Air, the lack of attention paid to Young Adult was a bit surprising. But Labor Day is a contrived weeper nobody will consider while it's here, and few will remember when it's gone.
