It’s funny, it’s honest and it’s probably not what you would expect from the likes of Jason Bateman, Jane Fonda, Adam Driver or Tina Fey. This is Where I Leave You, though not the first of its kind, is utterly touching.

After the death of their father, the Altman family gathers at home for a faux-shiva week of sibling rivalry and reminiscing. Being grown up and unhappy seems to be the lot in life for all the Altman kids. 

Paul (Corey Stoll), the oldest and most responsible, and his wife are unable to conceive a child even with a strict sex schedule and fertility injections. Bateman plays Judd, the protagonist who kick-starts the story with a bang, as he catches his wife in the throes of an affair with his boss.

Scenes such as this, when Bateman is at his best, are near perfection because they spiral from one extreme to another in a seemingly effortless way. When Judd first catches his wife in the act, you’re laughing because he’s sitting straight-backed, birthday cake in hand, as he dead-pan watches for an excruciatingly long moment at the foot of their bed. But from there, he switches to on the verge of tears, moving as if he doesn’t know what world he exists in anymore.

You see more of this class-A Bateman in scenes with his fictional but still zany mother (Fonda), as well as those with Rose Byrne, the familiar friend of Judd’s younger years.

Then, there’s always one, the youngest: Phillip (Driver). He self-describes himself as “the family screw-up” while the rest of the family frequently pin him as a man child. When he shows up late for the funeral, yelling “s***” repeatedly as he jumps over passing gravestones, there’s a disappointed, but not surprised, look in his relatives’ eyes. 

When Phillip brings home his obviously more mature therapist girlfriend (Connie Britton) for the shiva, there’s a collective eye roll. 

The choice of Driver for this role was pure brilliancy. He is the complete embodiment of a grown child in how he looks and sounds like Martin Starr but with a towering physique. His portrayal as Phillip, though not as overt, is like an extension of his character on Girls. No semi-awkward-semi-gross sexual encounters, but Phillip has no problem turning up the volume on the baby monitor so everyone at the shiva can hear the semi-awkward sex of his brother Paul.

While Driver is a refreshing surprise, Fey as their sister Wendy comes across as a surprising letdown. She, like her brothers, is also in her own state of perpetual unhappiness. We discover that her one true love still lives across the street from their childhood home, but he’s far away from Wendy in more ways than one.

Fey’s performance is disappointing largely because it doesn’t sync well with the performances of the other actors. It’s almost an inversion of what Fey did in the 2004 film Mean Girls. In Mean Girls, while every other character is an exaggerated stereotype of high school hierarchy, Fey as Ms. Norbury was funny but truthful and realistic. 

Here in This is Where I Leave You, everyone plays evenly to the swaying keel of personality and grief, while Fey seems to be stuck as an exaggerated figment of a sassy sister.

But even this doesn’t eclipse the film’s overall great whole. The idea of adult life just not living up to its hype is realized in all its sad, sweet and wacky forms. Similar films such as The Family Stone or The Best Man Holiday can’t compare to how This is Where I Leave You navigates family dynamics with such humor, flair and gusto.