There are some topics that are considered too risky to write about when it comes to film or television, since they very rarely tend to manifest as well as they should, which is precisely the reason why they’re actively avoided unless they are made by someone with the firsthand experience to be able to infuse the story with a sense of authenticity. In the past, we’ve seen well-intentioned films such as Rain Man and Forrest Gump (amongst several others) dealing with the subject of neurodivergence or autism, even if neither term was actively used, since the vocabulary simply did not exist, much like the understanding of these conditions that has only recently become a focus of the mainstream, particularly to destigmatise these issues to the point where they are slowly becoming less controversial to speak about. We’ve seen a few projects emerge that tackle this subject in a more thoughtful and meaningful manner, even if they’re not quite perfect – and a strong example of that is Ezra, in which director Tony Goldwyn, working from a screenplay written by Tony Spiridakis, tells the story of a stand-up comedian who has to face his own declining popularity with the raising of his son, the titular character who lives with quite a severe form of neurodivergence, which requires his parents and grandfather to constantly keep him out of harm’s way, as his erratic behaviour necessitates constant attention. A series of obstacles present themselves to Ezra and his father, who decides to take his son on an impromptu road trip, and the pair learn to understand one another along the way. A heartfelt and sentimental film that is composed almost entirely out of good intentions more than it is a strong story, Ezra is charming enough, even if it is consistently playing in a minor key, something that ultimately prevents it from reaching the heights that it felt like it was aiming for, which makes for a lovely but otherwise slightly unremarkable film that doesn’t quite hit every target as smoothly as we may have anticipated or hoped based on a cursory glance.

It is made almost immediately clear that Ezra is a deeply personal story, with Spiridakis stating that this was inspired by his relationship with his son, who similarly was born with autism, and whose upbringing was rife with challenges for his parents, who had to adapt to raising a son whose entire mind, as the film states, was hardwired to be different, causing many challenges and pratfalls in his journey. This story comes from a place of experience, as the focus is through the eyes of a father forced to adapt to the challenges that come with helping his son grow up was far from what he expected. The message at the heart of Ezra is delivered very early on, and it never makes any attempt to hide its true nature in any significant way. Instead, it spends its time supplementing the main theme, which is not solely based on being a deep-dive into the experiences of those who exist within the neurodivergent community or their caretakers, but also being filtered through the perspective of a parent trying to form a meaningful relationship with a son he adores, but struggles to understand on a fundamental level. Ezra explores the father-son connection as they undertake a literal journey, where their existing hostilities initially put them at odds with one another, and the encroaching threat of the law following them closely (as the film makes the characters fugitives as a way to give the film some stakes) only forcing them to put their skills together to evade the consequences of their actions. Goldwyn pays attention to these themes and crafts the film around this central dynamic, which is very compelling and gives it some structure, rather than spending too much time on the exposition, which is otherwise not all that important, especially since the film is never aiming to be the definitive text on the autistic experience, but rather a narrower and more personal account of one person’s perspective with the condition and his journey towards understanding its nuances.

After decades in the industry as a working actor and director, Goldwyn has amassed an impressive roster of friends and associates, which means that he was able to populate Ezra with several notable actors that help elevate the film, making it seem much less like the heavy-handed, forgettable “message films” that often emerge and are rarely watched, despite their important subject matter. The film is led by Bobby Cannavale, who is relishing the opportunity to play a more sympathetic character since most of his career has been defined by portraying brutish, more antagonistic parts that were rarely the focus. He is a very gifted actor, and he brings the part to life with his undeniable charm and ability to explore the inner depths of such a complex individual. Rose Byrne has a solid but mostly under-written part as his ex-wife who is constantly in a state of panic due to their son’s constant tendency to get in trouble, and Robert De Niro shows that he is still capable of playing complex roles, portraying the grandfather who simply wants the best for his family, even if it means approaching them with a slightly aggressive form of tough love. Supporting parts from Whoopi Goldberg, Rainn Wilson, Vera Farmiga and Goldwyn himself shade in the rest of the cast, as does the young William Fitzgerald, who plays the titular part in his acting debut. The film deserves credit for searching for an actor who was on the spectrum, rather than casting a more well-known name and simply asking them to mimic the behaviour of autistic individuals. Fitzgerald is very good, but the film doesn’t give him enough room to develop the character on his own, and one of the several shortcomings is that it focuses too much on Cannavale’s character, rather than allowing the titular role to have much to do, which is unfortunate considering the potential to explore the dynamic with more nuance. However, the cast does do good work, even if the film that surrounds them is not quite as strong as it should have been based on the ideas from which it was intent on working.

Unfortunately, a good concept and mostly strong performances are not enough for us to overlook the flaws embedded right at the heart of Ezra, which become increasingly clear the further we venture into this film. Ultimately, the film has a great idea, but its execution is lacklustre at the best of times. Goldwyn, who has directed a few films in the past and shown himself to be a very capable journeyman filmmaker (albeit one that doesn’t quite stand out), puts in a lot of effort, but ultimately he’s working with a subject that requires a more assured hand, someone who had experience with these intimate, complex character studies based around very important subjects. There is such a narrow thread separating this film from being flippant and dismissive in some moments, and outrageously hysterical in others – and while Goldwyn doesn’t cross over into either of them too much, the film does struggle to find the right tone. Primarily, it isn’t quite sure whether it wants to be a comedy or a drama, since it attempts to combine them in such a way that would make you believe that they are incompatible – one scene is filled with humour, while the next takes a sharp turn and becomes extremely heavy, and the oscillation between the two is awkward and difficult to comprehend, especially since we’ve seen countless examples of films being able to handle tonal shifts between comedy and drama without any difficulty. To its credit, Ezra does take some risks that deserve our admiration, but it all ultimately feels too heavy-handed at many moments, with the constant preaching and tendency towards layering on the message of the film to the point where it lingers over every single interaction feeling overwrought and dampening the joy that would be inherent with a film focused on celebrating the connection between a father and his son. It isn’t enough to entirely derail the film, but it does feel somewhat unnecessary and a more consistent director with the ability to plumb the emotional depths of such a story without it becoming needlessly heavy – as important a subject as autism may be, it doesn’t feel right that a film that is about celebrating uniqueness and the importance of family constantly veers towards the more downbeat and intense aspects, doing the subject a major disservice.

Ezra is a film that we can describe in a multitude of different ways, such as noting that it had good intentions and it tried to be actively more thoughtful about the subject than many forerunners that have attempted to tackle the same subject. We can say that it does its best to show the different nuances related to autism and how those who have to raise children with the condition often struggle to find ways to advocate for their offspring while still trying to understand the situation themselves. More than anything else, we can also note that it may still be too early to try and make films that attempt to represent the experience of both neurodivergent individuals and those closest to them, and that a lot more care has to be taken when telling these stories, even if it is coming from a writer who is choosing to share his perspective on the issue – even the most personal stories need to be aware of the broader implications, especially for a topic as complex as autism. This isn’t to imply that these stories should be exclusively reserved for those within the community (and both the director and writer expressed that this is quite a personal story to both of them), but rather that a lot more care has to be taken when it comes to unpacking these themes and exploring them in such a complex way, which I don’t believe Goldwyn can do, given the constraints present in the story. It’s a genuinely middle-of-the-road film that suffers the fate of many similarly-themed projects – it has good intentions but a lacklustre execution, and there comes a point where we slowly grow weary of being preached at since there is absolutely nothing in this film any compassionate and self-aware viewer didn’t know for ourselves. The result is a film that is solid but unremarkable, putting in enough merit to have an empathetic point of view and earn our respect, but it’s a muted, distant kind of respect, rather than one that manifests as a genuine love for the film or its message. It is decent but nothing daring, and often feels more like a bundle of missed opportunities than an fully-formed, meaningful work on its own.