By Javier E. David

Upon hearing the title of the recently released comedy-drama, “Sunshine Cleaning”, one might be forgiven for confusing this small-budget film with a 2006 film with a similar name, the light-hearted yet over-praised “Little Miss Sunshine.” Aside from their sunny titles, both of these films share (or suffer from, depending on who you ask) a similar trait: a contrived ‘quirk’ factor that has become endemic and somewhat cliché to the independent film genre. In short, these movies are designed to make you laugh, cry, and contemplate the vicissitudes of life and the sloppiness of love/romance.

“Sunshine Cleaning” labors under the weight of that increasingly familiar template, striving to cultivate a limited distribution, award-season mystique that can leave its viewers more than a bit jaded. It showcases much of what has become standard Indie fare: lachrymal subplots, a charming female lead; the adorable, precocious yet misunderstood adolescent sidekick; an irascible and sometimes vulgar elderly father-figure; with a resentful sibling and a romantic triangle thrown in for good measure.

Which is not to say that “Sunshine Cleaning” is a waste of time. Quite the opposite: it is a grown-up’s movie that is a thoroughly enjoyable cinematic diversion and a welcome respite from the big-budget popcorn movies that have already begun their assault on movie theaters nationwide. While it doesn’t require a great deal of intellectual or emotional heavy-lifting, “Sunshine Cleaning” deserves credit for being ambitious at its core, and having its heart in the right place.

The effervescent Amy Adams plays the heroine, Rose Lorkowski, an earnest thirty-something former high school cheerleader who works as a housekeeper to support her eight-year old son Oscar (played by Jason Spevack). Oscar – who seems cut from a similar cloth as the cute kid who played Renee Zellweger’s son in “Jerrry Macguire” – has an overactive imagination and is egged on by his grandfather, Academy Award-winning Alan Arkin (“Little Miss Sunshine”). The administrators at Oscar’s school appear to lack appreciation for his antics, and suggest that Rose pursue one of two options: medication or enrollment at a special needs institution. A chance encounter with a former high-school classmate convinces Rose that she needs to earn more money in order to lift her own self-esteem and subsidize private school tuition for Oscar. Rose enlists her reluctant and under-achieving sister Norah, played with verve and ample humor by Emily Blunt, to help her start a new venture suggested to her by her married policeman lover, Mac, played by Steve Zahn. The crime scene clean-up business is very lucrative, Mac tells Rose, who then cobbles together a makeshift operation with a used van and supplies provided by an amorous one-armed storekeeper named Winston (played by Clifton Collins Jr.).

Rose and Norah’s new endeavor encapsulates the movie’s biggest frustration: narrative strands within the main plot that build tension but are never carried to their logical fruition, or at least a satisfying conclusion. Each crime scene Rose and Norah visit becomes a compelling microcosm of the women’s own lives: messy, unhygienic and rife with unresolved conflicts. A subplot involving Norah’s determination to find someone who she suspects is the relative of a deceased woman begins with an intriguing premise, yet its resolution (or lack thereof) underwhelms. The competition between Rose’s fledgling business and the town’s only other crime scene-cleaner whom she undercuts, is allowed to wither on a vine of unfulfilled comedic promise. Rose’s messy romantic involvement with Mac and her growing attraction to Winston are never really taken to their creative limits. And given that both Rose and Norah labor under the weight of a disturbing childhood memory, the script’s developments seem bereft of necessary emotional tension.

Nonetheless, the movie is carried aloft by the screen presences of its two female leads, with Arkin ably interspersing the drama with his trademark combination of levity and thoughtfulness. Both Adams and Blunt make watching fun: both actresses have terrific comedic timing and can connect with their audiences by projecting coquettish vulnerability and understated energy when the moment requires, and can shed tears in a way that tug at the most ossified heart strings. In spite of a flawed script that isn’t as clever or emotional as advertised, “Sunshine” should chase your cloudy movie doldrums away.

Javier David is a New Yorker and Gulf War veteran who earned a B.A. and later a Masters in Public Administration from Columbia University’s School of International and Public Affairs (SIPA).

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