As any parent will say, there is no limit on how far they will go to give their child a good future, even if it means putting themselves in considerable emotional, physical or financial strain. Every parent wants their offspring to have a better life than them, which is one of those rare universal experiences that has been more than well-documented over time. However, everything has a limit, and sometimes it can spiral out of control when someone attempts to overstep specific boundaries. We find this is the central premise behind Preschool, a film written by Richard D’ovidio and brought to life by Josh Duhamel, in his third directorial outing. The film is set in a small English town, and centres on two families who are trying to achieve the same goal: to enroll their young children into the prestigious Puggsley Academy, an elite private school with an astonishing track record for success. The problem is that there is only one spot available, which means that they have to undergo a rigorous application process to determine which child will be given a place at the school, and which will have to seek their education elsewhere. While the respective mothers are entirely understanding that this is just part of the process, the two fathers take it far more seriously, and it isn’t long before they’re engaged in a bitter rivalry that extends far beyond the confines of traditional social etiquette, leading to some hilarious and uncomfortable situations. Not a particularly serious or innovative film by any means, but still worth the viewer’s time based on its off-kilter charm and ability to challenge and provoke certain common ideas without promising to be anything all that unique, Preschool is a wickedly funny film that knows what the audience will be expecting, pandering to what we usually would grow to anticipate with this sort of story, and relishing in simply entertaining through a careful and deliberate subversion of common ideas, leading to a genuinely enjoyable dark comedy with some lovely undertone of sincerity that make it far more affectionate than we may have imagined at a cursory glance.

The beauty of a film like Preschool is that it doesn’t feel compelled to hide behind layers of complex thematic elements, and can instead focus on delivering exactly what it promises on the surface. We don’t need to spend too much time attempting to decode the various layers of this film or trying to understand what it means, since it says exactly what it intends to do from its first moment through setting up the story of two families that go from pleasant strangers to rabid rivals, solely as a result of the knowledge that they are both competing for something that they desperately covet, being more than willing to sacrifice any amount of money or physical effort to get ahead of the other, even if it means losing part of their already fragile sanity. From this, the story evolves into something not necessarily more complex, but certainly with slightly more nuances lingering beneath the surface, which we find becomes part of the experience. Preschool is a film fundamentally about fatherhood – there is no shortage of stories that centre on the relationships between fathers and their children, so Duhamel is not doing anything particularly revolutionary, but it is in the execution that we find the film carrying a lot of meaning. At its core, this is a film about different kinds of masculinity and how it rears its head in various situations – both men represent a range of common ideas, whether it’s the desire to be the provider, having a very particular social status, or simply attempting to be the most dominant presence in a room. The film explores (but doesn’t overly complicate) the idea of two people trying to assert dominance and become the alpha male in a particular situation, which is reflected in their innate desire to overtake the other and prove their worth. Naturally, with this over-inflated sense of pride comes the most spectacular fall, which is where Preschool garners most of its humour and becomes quite a captivating affair.

The premise guiding Preschool is simple enough to lend itself to quite a straightforward set-up: two very different men are engaging in a rivalry that goes from friendly to outright hostile. The script calls for the traditional odd couple scenario, where two very different people are forced to exist alongside one another, setting aside their various quirks and instead having to embrace one another, which doesn’t come without its difficulties after some time. It’s a very classic comedic structure, and one that Duhamel uses to guide this film, and considering he’s not a newcomer (having directed two films previously, although they were both slightly more crude and elementary than this one, which has some degree of artistic resonance behind it), he does find ways to elevate the premise to be more nuanced than it would have been in the hands of someone without much experience. It does help that the screenplay is doing a lot of the work, as do the actors (with Duhamel himself being one of the two leads), so there isn’t too much need to over-extend himself to make the film seem somewhat like a unique, overly complex affair when in reality what makes it so effective is its simplicity. We can predict just about every narrative beat, to the point where we know there are only going to be two potential outcomes (either both children get accepted into the school after an additional spot opens up, or neither of them get to attend as a result of some complications – it is up to the viewer to determine which of the two is most likely, and its not unsatisfying to reach the conclusion we get), and we can forgive this solely because it is so charming in how it captures the quirky little nuances that drive this narrative forward. The jokes can be obvious, but like with any well-crafted comedy, it’s not always about being unique, and sometimes just a matter of how convincing a film can be – and Preschool certainly has enough conviction in its desire to be unique that we can overlook any potential shortcomings.

Despite a quite lengthy career where he’s done solid work, Duhamel doesn’t tend to be frequently scouted to lead a wide range of films. He looks like a movie star and is certainly talented enough, so the fact that he’s not been able to be elevated to getting roles that showcase his wide range of skills is slightly frustrating. Like many actor-turned-directors, he casts himself in one of the two central roles in Preschool, but rather than it being a vanity project, we do find him actively doing solid work, creating a memorable character. The role of Alan is a fascinating one – he’s an American living in the United Kingdom, so he is immediately an outsider, bringing in new perspectives that intercut with the overly posh attitudes of the people who surround him. The film is a two-hander, so Duhamel can only be as good as the person with whom he is acting, which in this case is primarily Michael Socha, who is just as terrific. Brian is the complete opposite of Alan: where the latter is an overly confident, borderline cocky outsider who has everything a man could want, Brian is deeply insecure and feels the need to constantly prove himself, even if it means becoming an entirely different person. The duality of this film is based around two very different men who share a common goal, and follows them as they scramble to do absolutely everything within their power to succeed, even if it means taking a few calculated risks that eventually force them both to spiral wickedly out of control. It’s a fascinating film, and one that doesn’t waste any of its performances – even Antonia Thomas and Charity Wakefield, playing the spouses of the protagonists, are given memorable moments, and Fenella Woolgar taking the opportunity to play to the rafters in the funniest way possible as the overly uptight school principal who has the unenviable task of choosing which child will get the final spot at the school, a decision that essentially comes down to determining which of the two fathers is slightly less of a buffoon. It’s a terrific ensemble, and one that elevates the film considerably, making it a far more engaging affair than we’d expect.

Preschool is the kind of film that doesn’t necessarily jump out as a particularly important or noteworthy work, and instead was always designed to be a more non-descript, humble film that is discovered or recommended rather than boldly announced. It’s very small and has the energy of those quaint, charming run-of-the-mill comedies that centre on common subjects, blending slapstick and witty dialogue to create genuinely captivating scenarios that may be far from revolutionary, but have enough nuance to actually be quite effective, even at their most obvious. Duhamel is a great actor, and he proves that he can set aside the dashing leading man persona and play a more eccentric character, which is massively helped by the strong cast that surrounds him and allows him to play into those unconventional quirks, everyone in the film being genuinely tremendous, especially when it comes to unearthing the quieter and more complex ideas that may not drive the story, but give it some nuances. It’s a delightfully irreverent film that stays within very specific confines, and proves to be quite effective when it comes to unravelling certain conversations around masculinity, parenthood and social status, all of which are frequently used as the foundation for a film that doesn’t take itself too seriously, but rather chooses to be a well-crafted comedy-of-errors that builds to a thrilling climax, commenting on familiar ideas without over-exerting itself or being anything more than it needed to be on the surface.