‘A Real Pain’ Review: Tourism, Trains, And Trauma
Jesse Eisenberg’s newest venture, A Real Pain, begins as it ends; in an airport. Amidst the chaos of luggage and boarding passes sits Kieran Culkin as Benji, a jobless junky awaiting the arrival of his polar opposite cousin. David, played by Eisenberg himself, anxiously calls to check in with Benji multiple times on his journey to the airport, only to find Benji has been there for hours, marvelling at all of the ‘crazy’ people you can meet. And this sums up the pair’s relationship. David is sensible - he has organised this trip to honour their late grandmother, a holocaust survivor, planning their itinerary to the final detail. Benji is spontaneous, ordering weed to their hotel. Together, they form a dynamic, reactive duo you can't help but indulge in.
A Real Pain is grounding and thought-provoking. At its surface, it is a story about human connection and shared traumas. But deeper, it explores the coping mechanisms of different people, the validity of pain, and the role we owe to each other. Eisenberg writes with depth and meaning, shedding light on the pains endured during the Holocaust, but also on the present-day hurt experienced by his characters, in a profoundly moving and genuine way. The story sees Benji and David express their grief in characteristically disparate ways, following their overlapping and often conflicting paths. It is the fragility of Benji’s mental state that dominates, leaving his cousin to bear the weight of their survival.
David has booked them onto a group heritage tour through some of the most emotional and harrowing sites of the Nazi regime in Poland. Between statues and graveyards, the group dine at elegant restaurants and stay in upscale hotels. Benji is the first to point this out, exclaiming at its injustice from his first-class train seat and resenting the fact that he cannot truly feel his grandmother’s suffering. They tenderly engage with their fellow attendees, learning their stories, and bonding through each other’s pain. The movie is littered with wit, sarcasm, and humour, craftily placed amongst the serious themes. Eisenberg contrasts a background of historical trauma with the present, begging an uncomfortable debate on the validity of our own pain.
Despite Benji and David’s stark and unerring differences, Eisenberg succeeds in glorifying neither. Benji’s candid nature and emotional vulnerability are inspiring, but he’s also A Real Pain to be around. The first to claim the window seat and shower, and the only one to freely voice his criticisms towards their helplessly unsuspecting British tour guide. Benji is unstable and unpredictable, a manifestation of an inner monologue unrestrained. Though the viewer may envy Benji’s outlook on life, they also understand that complete genuineness can be destructive. In contrast, David is regulated. Whilst Benji is erratic and full of movement, David is static. He eagerly awaits his return home to his wife and toddler and his conscientious job designing internet advertisements. David is the carer, feeling grave responsibility for the wellbeing of his cousin. In an out-of-character breakdown, he laments his frustration and jealousy towards Benji, exclaiming: ‘I know my pain is unexceptional so I don’t feel the need to burden everyone with it’. Whilst Kieran Culkin’s performance is stand-out excellent, Jesse Eisenberg subtly and authentically portrays the whirlwind of emotions it is to emotionally support another.
The culminating moment where the cousins feel closest with their grandmother is not on the tour at all, but rather in a humble visit to her previous home. They marvel at the unremarkability the place holds - just another slightly underwhelming dwelling on a side street. Together, they each place a rock on her doorstep, a sign that she is not forgotten, but are immediately told to remove them by a peering neighbour. The scene is genuine, awkward, and gentle, with the shared understanding that they need not fight to share in her hurt, but rather remain close to her through it.
Benji never leaves the airport. The cyclic nature of A Real Pain is a testament to the reality of suffering; that it is not so easily solved. The viewer is lulled into a feeling of optimistic transformation, hoping that, as the pair move forward physically they are also doing so emotionally. There is a sense that both have come away changed and when Benji decides to remain in place, the audience is left with a startling mellowness.
The film is living up to its own name; real pain is complex. Generational trauma is difficult to process and navigate, whilst grief is isolating and crushing, none of which is solved in a week. Eisenberg understands that real pain is personal and that David, whilst unable to feel the bounds and extents of Benji’s emotions, is there to offer a shoulder when needed. It is Benji’s decision whether to accept.
A Real Pain was released in UK and Irish cinemas on the 8th of January 2025.`
Edited by Humaira Valera, Co-film & TV editor
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