The more reductivist cinephile might tell you that Sunshine Cleaning was bad. The not-quite-discerning might tell you that it was good, entertaining even. Both groups are wrong. Directed by Christine Jeffs, Sunshine Cleaning crafts a persona of excellence but fails to fit into its own image.
The premise is intriguing. Former housemaid Rose Lorkowski (Amy Adams) creates a crime scene cleaning business in order to afford private-school tuition for her son, Oscar (Jason Spevack). She enlists her n’er-do-well sister Norah (Emily Blunt) as a partner and gives her fledging business a cheery name, “Sunshine Cleaning”. In between scrubbing blood and picking brains, Rose flirts with the one-armed local hardware store owner Winston (Clifton Collins Jr.) in return for industry tips and a chance to commune with a kindred spirit.
With a cast of outstanding actors—including Alan Arkin, who virtually reprises his role as the grandfather from the similarly schmaltzy Little Miss Sunshine—and a plot synopsis that simply screams breakout indie success, how could Sunshine Cleaning go wrong?
Ultimately, the film suffers from too much quirk in all the wrong places. Rose is trapped in a dead-end affair with her high school sweetheart, Mac (Steve Zahn), who knocked her up and married another woman. Norah is a goofy drug user who can’t cope with her traumatic childhood. Their father, Joe (Arkin), hatches a never-ending series of get-rich-quick schemes. And Oscar? Well, he licks things.
It seems that many low-budget dramedies have confused oddness for sincerity. On one hand, acknowledging idiosyncrasies can make a film seem more legitimate because of our own foibles and curious habits. Sunshine Cleaning, however, focuses so hard on the eccentric that it fails to present deep, realistic characters. Many potentially emotional scenes merely sketch a situation and a character’s reaction without providing any perspective or discussion. Rose questions her relationship with Mac but never truly understands it. Joe never seems to think about (or miss) his wife, but he is quick to browbeat Rose over the difficulty of being a single parent. The characters all serve a purpose, but they lack justification.
Sunshine Cleaning isn’t without a few bright spots, however. Oscar’s conversations with Joe intriguingly explore the mischievous innocence of childhood. Spevack is no doubt as curious as Oscar, because he easily captures the awe and wonder of the boy’s imagination. The film subtly criticizes the modern public education system that mistakes Oscar’s creativity (and, yes, quirkiness) for learning difficulties in a deft move that underscores the importance of innocence. More broadly, the Lorkowski family provides the audience with oh-so-relatable dysfunctional relationships between siblings and parents alike. When the airy, folksy guitar riffs used early in the film drop out, it becomes clear that Rose, Norah, Oscar, and Joe ultimately care for one another beyond their petty squabbles.
Still, it’s hard to not be disappointed by a movie like Sunshine Cleaning. Given its plot and cast, the film could have discussed life, death, and the grieving process in a distinct, compelling way. Watching a one-armed hardware store owner/model plane enthusiast on the silver screen is plenty entertaining, of course, but without any gravitas, the character, like the film itself, comes off as contrived and insincere.
