The Intern

One thing you have to say for Nancy Meyers, she writes incredibly likeable characters. From Private Benjamin and Baby Boom in the 1980s to Something's Gotta Give and It's Complicated in the Aughts, we enjoy spending time with the impossibly attractive, wealthy, successful individuals who populate her pictures—both because of her writing and the actors she casts.  As the titular lead in her latest picture The Intern, Robert De Niro may perhaps embody Meyers’ most likable character yet. Ben Whittaker (De Niro) is a 70-year-old widower who personifies the exemplary qualities of his generation of males with none of their shortcomings. Ben is a smart, well-dressed, chivalrous, responsible, discrete, dignified, selfless, deeply sensitive yet unmistakably masculine guy who plays by the rules, has a strong business sense, calls things like he sees them but holds his tongue when necessary, and carries a handkerchief so he can offer it to any woman nearby who might be overcome with emotion. And he’s not bad looking either.   Bored with retirement, he takes advantage of an internship program for senior citizens at an online fashion start-up run by young, motivated entrepreneur named Jules Ostin (Anne Hathaway). She’s a little difficult to work with, a little neglectful of her family, but essentially she’s just about as perfect a representative of the modern, corporate wife-and-mother superwoman as Ben is of his fantasy prototype.

Movies about idealized people being kind to each other and expressing their gratitude over and over are usually pretty saccharine and difficult to stomach. Kindness does not exactly make for great drama or for laugh out loud comedy. So it’s impressive that Meyers and her actors not only make this 121 minute movie tolerable, it actually goes down remarkably easily. The principle reason for this is De Niro, who finally gets to play a comedic role with the same distinctive, nuanced virtuosity he brought to the dramatic performances that made his career in the ‘70s and ‘80s. He’s an ideal actor for Meyers, who specializes in stories about women trying to fit into a “man’s world,” and the loveable men who love them. 

Since 1998, after dissolving her partnership with ex-husband Charles Shyer and becoming a director in her own right, Mayers has made films that seem like chick flicks on the surface, but whose sympathies always lie with their older male characters—such as the ones played by Alec Baldwin in It’s Complicated, Mel Gibson in What Women Want, and Jack Nicholson in Something’s Gotta Give (still her best picture to date).  Its no wonder these older male stars want to work with Meyers; she writes simplistic parts for them and then takes the time to allow their familiar and well-honed screen personas to fill in the gaps, bringing depth and dimension to the roles

De Niro has almost become a joke in the last couple of decades by appearing in far too many disposable, sub-par comedies directed by young filmmakers who only know how to deliver punch lines and broad sight gags. The chance to work with a writer/director who spends time nurturing a performance and knows how to create satisfying scenes in which characters genuinely connect on a tangible human level is a tremendous gift to this legendary star at this late stage of his career—and the result is a gift to any fan of the great actor. Hathaway comes off well too. She finds unexpected levels of credible vulnerability in Jules, especially considering the predictable nature of the story (what little story there is).

Apart from the strong leads, The Intern is interesting because it doesn’t fall into any specific genre. It’s basically a rom-com where the romance is platonic and comedy is of the warm and fuzzy variety. The one sequence that does go for big, broad, contrived laughter falls flat and feels out of tone with the rest of the picture. The Intern  features some worthy ideas and observations about generational attitudes, gender politics, finding identity in work, and maintaining a work/life balance, but the overall film is too slight to resonate much beyond simple escapism. Still, Meyers’ old-fashioned approach to romanticized Hollywood fluff is a welcome change from most contemporary studio comedies with their anything-for-a-laugh crassness that inevitably dissolves into unearned sentimentality.