DON’T SAY GOOD LUCK – Review by Sarah Ward

Don’t Say Good Luck isn’t astute and thoughtful solely because it features Melanie Lynskey. That the Yellowjackets star was the only actor that filmmaker Julia Hart wanted (and even considered) for the movie’s second-biggest role is a perfect piece of shorthand, however. How do you instantly signal to the watching world that a film values emotional honesty, and that it isn’t afraid to confront life’s heartaches and struggles with authenticity? How do you convey that a movie that plays with plenty of familiar elements — such as telling a teen coming-of-age tale, and one about staging a musical at that, while unfurling an illness story — won’t settle for standard? You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah’s Sunny Sandler is Don’t Say Good Luck’s lead, but Lynskey is its lighthouse.

Lynskey’s Elizabeth Birenbaum has always been a guide for her daughter Sophie, too, who Sandler portrays as a healthy and relatable mix of loving offspring, sensible high-schooler, yearning teen and uncertain adolescent. There’s little that goes on with either mother or teenager that the other isn’t aware of — except the return of Elizabeth’s cancer just as Sophie is auditioning for, and then cast in, her school’s production of Waitress. Beyond Lynskey’s involvement, one of the other early indications that Don’t Say Good Luck isn’t content to simply tick routine boxes is the weight and space that it gives to Elizabeth and her experience. Although there’s zero doubt that Sophie is the picture’s protagonist, her mother’s illness is never treated as mere heartstring-tugging fuel to make the film’s main character more interesting or complicated.

Providing genuine room within a narrative for someone with health challenges, and giving them depth also, shouldn’t be as rare as it when said person is not the story’s core focus. Don’t Say Good Luck not only avoids such a frustrating, too-frequent trap, but demonstrates how resonant a movie can be when it refuses to use the suffering of a loved one purely to bolster its lead. In the process, it steers clear of the sentimental melodrama that gives weepies a bad name as well. And Hart’s film is moving. Sophie is, of course, affected by her mother’s plight. She’s upset and distressed, confused and changed, and even motivated by it. Taking that impact as a given isn’t the same as earning it, though, with characters and with audiences; in their screenplay, Miss Stevens, Fast Color and I’m Your Woman director Hart, her real-life partner and regular co-scribe Jordan Horowitz, plus novelist Laura Hankin understand that vast difference.

How does life go on when we know that it doesn’t? And when we’re forced to confront that truth, rather than hide from it as we all spend most of our time doing? That Don’t Say Good Luck dwells in these existential questions — embraces them, in fact, as Sophie and Elizabeth each grapple with them — helps explain why the movie never becomes maudlin or mawkish. Hart also knows the importance of showing, not just telling of or pondering, what surrounds its two central women beyond Elizabeth’s cancer recurrence. Their other nearest and dearests, huge dreams, crushing conflicts, tightly clutched hopes: each play a key part in the pair’s fleshed-out world. Hart doesn’t forget that she’s making a film about a teenager whose wish to lead her school’s musical comes true, either, complete with rivalries and rifts, rehearsals and parties, crushes and crises of confidence, and the like. Indeed, as it charts Sophie’s efforts to navigate everything that starring in Waitress brings while facing her mom’s sickness, Don’t Say Good Luck explores how deeply Elizabeth wants her daughter to relish her everyday existence, aim high, follow her talents, have a creative outlet, and find solace and community everywhere possible.

Don’t underestimate how tried-and-tested plot points and themes can prove refreshingly earnest, not to mention all-the-more potent, when delivered and examined with sincerity; Hart certainly doesn’t. That isn’t a new facet of her skills as a filmmaker, as initially honed across the first five movies of her career (all within six years between 2016–2022, including the similarly high school-centric Stargirl and its sequel Hollywood Stargirl). Accordingly, although spying where Don’t Say Good Luck is going is as easy as pressing play, or watching the trailer beforehand — as is spotting the tropes previously used elsewhere, and often, across both teen flicks and illness movies, and understanding how weaving in a musical production lets the film overtly trade in big feelings — Hart’s latest still sings with bona-fide emotional insights and candour, touchingly so. Thanks to cinematographer Bryce Fortner and editor Shayar Bhansali (both returning from Stargirl, I’m Your Woman and Hollywood Stargirl), its gaze and pace is also empathetic above all else.

From its young star’s surname to the Happy Madison logo that precedes the movie, another pivotal family connection beats at Don’t Say Good Luck’s heart. Adam Sandler might be filling not just his own films but Netflix’s catalogue with new entries on his daughters’ acting resumes — the Sadie Sandler-led Roommates also hit the streaming service this year — but Sunny’s charms as Sophie are real. In her hands, that’s how her character always plays, whether bustling with nerves, overwhelmed with tragic news, trying to put on a brave face or, more often than not, searching for calm in an internal whirlwind. Holding her own opposite Lynskey, and in an ensemble that boasts Bebe Neuwirth (Julia) and Steve Buscemi (Wednesday) as Elizabeth’s parents, Max Greenfield (Running Point) as Sophie’s dad and Stephanie Beatriz (A Man on the Inside) as her teacher, is no minor achievement. That little is truly small in our lives, be it a dream, a memory, a chance, a butt-dialled phone call, a shared moment or the opportunity to ensure that someone you love knows it: Hart, her excellent cast, and this sweet and sage film appreciate that as well.