A Real Pain (2024)

What begins as a seemingly chaotic airport reunion quickly unravels into a layered exploration of grief, resilience, and human connection, as cousins David and Benji Kaplan navigate both the landscapes of Poland and their own histories.

Jesse Eisenberg’s latest film—his second as both writer and director after When You Finish Saving the World—stars Eisenberg himself as the anxious, reserved David alongside Kiernan Culkin as the impulsive, ever-charismatic Benji. Through their journey across Poland, Eisenberg crafts a story that balances comedy with surprising emotional depth, inviting audiences to confront painful histories with honesty, humor, and tenderness.

A Tale of Two Cousins

The film opens with a hectic scene at the airport that captures the cousins’ distinct personalities: David is anxious and meticulous, constantly calling Benji to update him on arrival times and plans, while Benji has already been there for hours, grinning and claiming he’s met “the craziest f***ing people here.” Right from the start, Eisenberg establishes their odd-couple dynamic—David as the cautious wet blanket, Benji as the larger-than-life, unpredictable presence. This contrast sets the tone for a journey that is both heartwarming and uneasy, as David and Benji find themselves confronting not only their family history but also deeper questions about connection, forgiveness, and healing.

David and Benji are worlds apart in how they navigate life. David, driven by anxiety, clings to schedules and order. Benji thrives on impulse, with a chaotic energy that often leaves others—and sometimes himself—exasperated. Kiernan Culkin’s portrayal of Benji brings this manic charisma to life, playing him as someone who masks deep vulnerability with humor and theatrics. Eisenberg’s David, in contrast, is quieter, even meek at times, embodying someone perpetually braced for disappointment or discomfort.

Their differing philosophies clash repeatedly, leading to some of the film’s most memorable moments. Benji, who harbors a past filled with tough times, insists that luxury must be earned—a point he makes as they sneak into first class on a train, declaring, “But we earned it!” The contrast between Benji’s hedonism and his reluctance to indulge in luxuries denied to his older family is palpable.

David, on the other hand, is the type to shy away from indulgence altogether. Even the idea of rest makes him uncomfortable. He admits at one point that he’s never understood the purpose of Shabbat—the weekly day of rest and reflection central to Jewish observance. In a moving conversation with Eloge (Kurt Egyiawan), a Rwandan genocide survivor, David is gently challenged on this mindset, called out for his inability to prioritize rest and self-reflection. This insight lingers with him, quietly shaping his emotional journey.

The cousins share a moment while the tour group moves ahead

Visual and Directorial Style

Eisenberg’s directorial choices heighten the film’s emotional pull. Poland’s architecture, landscapes, and historical sites are beautifully framed, giving the film a postcard-like aesthetic that juxtaposes modern luxury with the weight of past tragedies. Shots alternate between wide, sweeping views of Polish cities and deeply intimate close-ups of the cousins’ faces. The use of close-ups enhances the film’s rawness, as if every expression and unspoken thought is laid bare. The broader landscape shots remind us of the larger, historical scope that surrounds their personal struggles.

This visual contrast invites viewers to feel like silent participants—a third cousin of sorts, traveling alongside David and Benji. And in a way, we’re tourists too, taking a small journey through the fictional lives of these characters. To us, they are as distant as the graves they visit later in the film.

Sound plays a critical role as well. A mostly solo piano soundtrack, featuring Polish composer Chopin, underscores the film’s tender and reflective tone. Key moments of silence—such as the scenes at the Majdanek concentration camp—convey a respect and gravity that words cannot. Eisenberg’s restraint in these moments allows the weight of history to sit uncomfortably, giving the film an emotional depth that respects its sensitive subject matter.

Resilience and Living in the Present

Throughout their journey, the cousins are confronted with Poland’s painful history, highlighted by a tour guide, James (Will Sharpe). On the group’s first outing, James describes the experience as “a tour of pain… and a tour of a resilient people.”

This dichotomy of beauty and tragedy runs throughout the film and shapes Benji’s journey in particular. He’s quick to challenge James, frustrated when historical landmarks are reduced to dry facts. For example, Benji confronts James over a Jewish cemetery, demanding it be honored as the resting place of real people, not just another historical site.

Benji’s insistence on humanity over history leads to one of the film’s most impactful moments. James later takes Benji’s feedback to heart and thanks him, acknowledging the importance of seeing these sites as more than just “history.” This moment encapsulates the film’s broader question: Is it real, or is it just facts?

For David, the journey is quieter but no less transformative. Burdened by both his own pain and Benji’s unpredictable presence, he learns—through conversations and difficult experiences—that rest, connection, and presence are essential. Eisenberg’s handling of these themes feels deeply personal, asking viewers to consider the balance between honoring the past and living fully in the present.

The Weight of History at Majdanek

One of the film’s most moving sequences unfolds at the Majdanek concentration camp. Here, Eisenberg’s direction is at its most reverent, as the music falls silent and the focus shifts to the somber weight of the location itself. The camera lingers on haunting details: the blue walls of the gas chambers, the towering piles of shoes taken from prisoners, and finally, a mountain of ash. James narrates quietly, his voice measured and respectful, until even he falls silent as the group confronts the enormity of the site.

Will Sharpe later described this day of filming as “one of the most powerful and memorable days” of the production. The cast and crew approached the location with profound respect, staying only as long as absolutely necessary. “Really, we were just there to witness the history, and not much more,” Sharpe recalled in the production notes. This careful, restrained approach translates to the final cut, where the weight of history is felt without becoming exploitative.

Tour guide James prepares the group as they enter the concentration camp Majdanek.

An Open-Ended Conclusion

The film closes much as it began, with David returning to his home and Benji once again at the airport. This cyclical ending leaves Benji’s fate open-ended, perhaps hinting that while his future remains uncertain, the journey and the moments of connection were what truly mattered. Eisenberg’s choice not to provide neat resolutions reflects the film’s belief in embracing life’s beauty and messiness rather than focusing solely on tragic inevitabilities.

In the end, A Real Pain is not a grand epic or a sweeping drama. It’s a quiet story about the small, personal experiences that shape us.

Can I sink my teeth into it?

Watching A Real Pain is like eating the perfect pierogi. It may look plain, even austere, but one bite reveals a rich, soulful filling. It’s a quiet masterpiece that sustains, surprises, and, in its modest way, leaves a lasting warmth.

Note: I had the pleasure of seeing A Real Pain at a critics’ screening for the members of the North Dakota Film Society.