David O. Russell's latest collaboration with Jennifer Lawrence is
another dynamic tale of personal triumph, just as Silver Linings Playbook and, to a much grander extent, American Hustle were before it. And if we want to
stretch beyond Lawrence you can put TheFighter in that same context.
But Joy is a little bit more than those
films; it's the most fantastical project Russell has done since I Heart Huckabees, bringing a
storybook quality to the hard scrabble story of real-life entrepreneur Joy
Mangano. It's a combination that doesn't always work, especially as Russell
indulges in some of his madcap tendencies, but he's fortunate to have the one
actress who can carry the film on her capable shoulders.
Joy is essentially two different movies all
rolled into one, which is part of the problem. The first act, which begins with
a fairy tale opening narrated by young Joy's grandmother (Diane Ladd) about the
talented child, is about her difficult home life full of cartoonish and very
familiar characters; familiar if you're a follower of Russell's work, anyway.
Her head filled full of hopes, dreams, and potential, Joy has grown up and not
realized any of it. Now she lives under one roof with all of the people who are
holding her back in various ways: her mother (Virginia Madsen) is a shut-in who
watches soap operas all day; her father (De Niro), who is divorced from her
mother, lives in the basement where he constantly fights with Joy's charming
but aimless ex-husband, Tony (Edgar Ramirez). With a few kids to care for, a
dead-end job at an airport, and a bitter sister (Elisabeth Rohm) watching her
every move, Joy isn't going anywhere, despite a natural gift for inventing
things that should have taken her far. 
After feeling too much like a screwball
family comedy for far too long, the film eventually takes off when Bradley
Cooper arrives, all confidence, charm, and swagger as Neil Walker, the head of
the QVC network who gambles on Joy's latest invention: the Miracle Mop. As he
takes her around the spinning showcases where Joan Rivers (played flawlessly by
her daughter Melissa) sells various household items to millions, the story
becomes something entirely different, as well. As Joy steps out on her own into
the rough and tumble world of business, the film also leaves behind its madcap
tendencies and becomes leaner and meaner, a story of a brassy, no-nonsense
woman ready to take what she has long deserved.
This is really what the film should have
been about all along, although it's fair that it wouldn't be as meaningful
without showing us Joy's turbulent family life. But Russell also seems
more interested in this aspect of Joy's story because it allows Lawrence to be
her most brazen, which is when she's at her best. After every one of Joy's
various setbacks, usually caused by her scheming, treacherous family or her
father's nasty girlfriend/benefactor (Isabella Rossellini), we get a scene of
Lawrence meaningfully firing off a shotgun or intimidating suppliers. Russell
eats that stuff up; he saves his best tricks for when Lawrence is alone, cuing
up the vintage score and adding a few visual flourishes just for her. He truly
seems inspired by her, which makes sense because his renaissance from a
somewhat troubled filmmaker has coincided with her emergence as a
superstar. 
This renaissance for Russell has also come
with an unwavering populist streak, and Joy may be his most accessible film to
date. We trust in Joy's goodness, her maternal instincts, her loyalty, just as
much as we loathe her spiteful family. It's Lawrence's multi-dimensional
performance that sees us through the film's rough patches. She's asked to carry
practically every scene, portraying a disappointed daughter, caring mother,
loyal friend, shrewd businesswoman, and heartbroken wife. It's a lot to put on
one actress's shoulders, but Lawrence does it with ease and yes, with
joy.
Rating: 3 out of 5
