Good Grief Is a Heartfelt, Sometimes Laborious Exploration of Life After Loss

In the first scene of Good Grief, Daniel Levy’s directorial film debut, Marc (Levy) suffers an insurmountable loss. His doting husband Oliver (Luke Evans) is killed in a car crash, and life as he knows it instantly stops cold. It’s a crushing beginning to a film that more or less maintains that level of solemnity for its 100-minute runtime, and those expecting Levy to bring his usual Schitt’s Creek levity to the table—even for brief interludes of comic relief—may be disappointed. Good Grief is not a dramedy (even though it is marketed as one), but rather a somber film about the messiness of grief and its often unforgiving, even destructive, grip.

Good Grief takes a number of unexpected turns along the way, one being a quick transformation from a story about a man grieving the loss of his partner into a story about friendship. Marc has two best friends, Sophie (Ruth Negga) and Thomas (Himesh Patel), both of whom do their best to carry him through his first year of grief. Their relationship yields an unexpected and powerful perspective on loss, and writer/director Levy does a nuanced job at showing how those close to you can help you through your darkest hour—but how you might unintentionally hurt them in the process.

Throughout Good Grief, Levy hones in on the discomfort of Marc’s grief. He feels the pressure to download dating apps. He’s forced to navigate others’ unease around the subject of Oliver. He must traverse feelings of anger toward his late partner. While, for the most part, it rings as refreshingly honest, the heaviness of it all sometimes becomes a little tiresome.

Indeed, Levy often struggles to let Good Grief breathe. Despite entrusting more than competent actors, himself included, to handle this heavy subject matter, he doesn’t quite seem to trust his film enough to lean into much-needed subtlety. His script is filled with on-the-nose monologues about grief and friendship and humanity. It’s hard not to feel hit over the head with these themes at times; we know what the characters are going through—must they tell us repeatedly?

A few of the characters in Good Grief receive a treatment similar to the rest of the script. Sophie is a wild child, and Levy doesn’t let us forget it. She wears big fur coats, she drinks a little too much, and a fair share of her screen time consists of her talking about how little she cares about the rules. It’s a shame, because Negga is a wonderful actor, and she still manages to bring a large dosage of internal conflict to her role, despite the cliche.

Luckily, Patel and Levy’s characters have a bit more depth to them. Thomas is a man of contradictions: He’s frustrated but not bitter, cautious but not boring, lacks self-assurance yet is still confident in his convictions. Patel sinks his teeth into this challenging role with ease, playing the character with a subdued fierceness and often acting as the grounding force in a story filled with big personalities. But Levy steals the show. He steps out of his comedic comfort zone with justified confidence, playing Marc with such commitment that every shed tear, every selfish gesture and every over-long monologue is utterly believable. Good Grief is a genuine tearjerker, and Levy’s performance is largely to blame (or credit).

And Levy’s confidence extends beyond his performance. Good Grief is remarkably self-assured in many ways: In its beautiful portraits of Parisian streets courtesy of cinematographer Ole Bratt Birkeland, its well thought out story arc, Jonathan Corn’s clean editing, Rob Simonsen’s emotional score. And, credit where credit is due, it isn’t every day that a film about tragedy resists the urge to bring humor or self-deprecation to the table, especially in the cynical year of 2024! The faults of Good Grief are relatively few and far between, and if this directorial debut is anything to go off of, Levy has a bright filmmaking career ahead of him.

Director: Daniel Levy
Writer: Daniel Levy
Stars: Daniel Levy, Ruth Negga, Himesh Patel, Luke Evans, Celia Imrie, David Bradley, Arnaud Valois
Release Date: December 29, 2023; January 5, 2024 (Netflix)

Aurora Amidon is a film journalist and passionate defender of Hostel: Part II. Follow her on Twitter for her latest questionable culture takes.