Otto is a grump who’s given up on life following the loss of his wife and wants to end it all. When a young family moves in nearby, he meets his match in quick-witted Marisol, leading to a friendship that will turn his world around.
This review would be disingenuous if I didn’t confess at the beginning I am a sucker for schmalz. However, I always temper that confession by saying, “It has to be good schmalz, though all involved in its production are not required to have college educations.” My favorite brand of schmalz requires an old man or woman as the main character, an animal (preferably a dog, but it could even be a hedgehog), cute children, and well-timed slapstick. That’s not much as far as schmaltz requirements go. I read the Swedish novel ‘A Man Called Ove’ by Fredrick Backman a few years back and couldn’t put it down. Then along came the Swedish film based on the book and, ditto, I had to see it twice. Then I saw the announcement that Americans had jumped on the bandwagon with “A Man Called Otto.” I guess Otto is the rough English translation of Ove if there is one. Starring non other than Tom Hanks, our go-to-good guy. I scoffed. I was by now an Ove expert, and there was no way Hanks could be curmudgeonly enough to pull the character off. He’s also not old enough. I had to see the film!
Well, Hanks must have heard my dismissal of him as Ove Anderson. He is downright gruff and unneighborly and even goes so far as to punch a hospital clown in the face at one point. We see Otto as a young man, very socially awkward, and played by a second-generation Hanks, in this case, Truman Hanks, the youngest son of Tom and his wife, Rita Wilson. There are also flashbacks to a middle age Otto brought about through hair dye and makeup. These flashbacks are so necessary and also so beautifully integrated into the storyline. They flow rather than break the flow of the film.
Some reviewers have anointed Mariana Trevino as the film’s savior. She is funny, full of life (and pregnant, so figuratively and literally), and always going full tilt. Her husband is her foil, very solid, helpful but inept, good-hearted, and not so full of words as his wife. The assortment of neighbors are good people who have tried to look after Otto since the death of his wife, Sonya, though they are definitely on the quirky side. When necessary, though, they fall in line to offer whatever is needed of them. So quirky isn’t all bad. In fact, not bad at all. Just quirky.
These characters make up an ensemble of quality seldom seen in a film. There is a pace to the action that is slowed by Otto’s visits to Sonya’s grave. That slapstick makes suicide attempts humorous in a way that can tickle all of us. Yes, of course, that’s how MY attempt would undoubtedly fall apart. But Mr. Right Fighter Anderson wins even when he’s not trying.
The film meets my necessary components for schmaltz. There is the old man Otto, left behind after his wife’s death. Two cute little girls charm the old man. “What’s your name?” one girl asks him on their first meeting. “Otto,” he answers. When she looks quizzically, he says, “Otto, O-t-t–o.” She replies, “Hello, O-t-t-o.”
Oh, and there is an animal. A cat. A good choice. Very discreet but requires minimal attention, which in turn requires some engagement from Otto. There is, of course, some sadness that the story has been tempered with happiness by the time the plot progresses to that point. Just enough real happiness and the necessary sadness of life for a well-lived life. Is “A Man Called Otto” schmaltzy? It is poignant and holds onto just enough of the wispy schmaltz we all need a dose of from time to time. We must remember that people are good—even the Ottos of the world.
In Theaters Friday, January 6th
