Poised to simultaneously mock and admire an eccentric but lovable fuddy-duddy (Sally Field), Hello, My Name Is Doris succeeds in creating a character who sticks to the bones. Marred by a sluggish start and more than a sprinkling of boilerplate sit-com plot strokes, the film succeeds in presenting a 60-something nonconformist who often startles the viewer with her perky authenticity. Field, who holds two Oscars on her mantle, is by and large so winning that the sheer effort of her performance ultimately drowns out the film’s many shortcomings.
While not to be confused with the superior Grandma with Lili Tomlin, Hello, My Name Is Doris does a much better job than last year’s While We’re Young in tackling the subject of cross-generational personal interaction. Doris Miller, smitten like a schoolgirl by a 20-something new arrival at her office, stalks John Freemont (Max Greenfield) on Facebook with the help of her friend’s all-knowing 13-year-old daughter. All the while we begin to sense Doris has issues with her conflicted brother, who, along with his more strident wife, want Doris to move out of the old Staten Island homestead she shared with her recently deceased mom. Trouble is, Doris is also a chronic hoarder, so she begins therapy at their suggestion.
The scene where her therapist raises in the air piece by piece of Doris’s accumulated belongings for keeping or discarding possesses a stong element of pathos. Trouble is, it also demonstrates the essential hollowness of the film’s serious side. Her house may be junk-filled but it’s also strangely sanitized.
Just as clutter never looked this good, director and co-writer Michael Showalter displays a hint of how seriously disturbed Doris is regarding her family and her circumstances, only to equivocate and pull back. Here he cuts to yet another comedic scene of her newly acquired 20-something friends encouraging her fresh foray into their nightclub culture. There they figuratively wink behind her back at what a fool she is.
Doris usually seems to get the last laugh but her interior situation remains mostly unchanged despite her ostensibly blossoming discovery of younger generation payoffs. En route she receives plenty of kicks–both the thrilling variety and the more hurtful, bruising ones.