Sometimes, maybe, it's a little too unoffensive: It's Kind of a Funny Story is so gentle, so anxious not to put a foot wrong, that it doesn't have much sticking power. But its casually compassionate perspective is also what makes it work: In a culture where children and their feelings often seem to run roughshod over the adult world, it's a relief to get a snapshot of a mixed-up middle-class kid who comes to realize just how manageable his problems really are.
That kid is Craig (Keir Gilchrist), a bright, stressed-out teenager who, after feeling somewhat suicidal over a case of unrequited love, talks a sympathetic doctor (played by the fine character actor Aasif Mandvi) into admitting him to a mental hospital. Once Craig has been signed in -- and has had his belt and shoelaces taken away, just in case -- he realizes his mistake: The people around him have real problems. Plus, they're kind of weird: An older black gent (Lou Myers) shouts out, "It'll come to ye!" at seemingly random moments that are really almost psychically opportune; the soft-spoken, pajama-clad, yarmulke-wearing Solomon (Daniel London) has such sensitive ears that even the tone of normal conversation sends him into a cottony state of anguish; Muqtada (Bernard White) is so distressed he can do nothing but lie in bed, a silent lump under a rumpled blanket; and Bobby (Zach Galifianakis), fond of disguising himself as a doctor and escaping the ward (his eternally rumpled hair isn't even that much of a giveaway), has some not-immediately defined problems. He becomes Craig's closest friend in the ward, making the kid's brief stint there -- the supervising psychiatrist, played by the great Viola Davis, has told him the minimum stay is five days -- not just tolerable but also, it seems, life-changing in just the right ways.
There's also, of course, a love interest for Craig, the brainy, waifish Pixies-loving Noelle (Emma Roberts): She's a cutter and a looker, and in only a few days, Craig has almost completely forgotten the young woman (Zoë Kravitz) who caused his not-so-major trauma in the first place. That's the whole idea behind It's Kind of a Funny Story: Craig is a sensitive, medicated modern kid (he tells that first doctor who sees him that he went off his Zoloft without medical supervision, which elicits a nonjudgmental but no-nonsense "You shouldn't do that"). And he does have his share of real problems: His parents, played by Lauren Graham and Jim Gaffigan, are supportive and sympathetic, but dad, in particular, expects a lot from him. Boden and Fleck (who also adapted the screenplay) have shaped the movie as a non-scolding parable, the story of one kid who learns that -- stop the presses! -- he's not the center of the world. The movie has a loose, freewheeling vibe; even its major dramatic moments (including one in which Bobby crumples, fearing that he's blown the important interview that will secure him a spot in a group home) carry only the minimum requirement of dramatic weightiness. Because Boden and Fleck don't milk any of the character's problems for maximum dramatic impact, their approach may sometimes seem a little too facile.
But their sidelong, cockeyed style also saves the movie from sinking into the dread "They're not crazy, they're special" category. Because Boden and Fleck don't treat their characters as victims, they run the risk of trivializing those characters' problems. But it's a risk that pays off, and one the actors are in sync with. Gilchrist (who appears on United States of Tara) is so regular-looking that he's dangerously low on charisma. But Craig is a work in progress, not a finished human being, and Gilchrist navigates his character's admitted sketchiness with humility and a sense of humor. Roberts is a bit too winsome in some scenes, but in the end she balances her character's wispy fragility with the right amount of tartness.
But this is really Galifianakis' movie. After seeing It's Kind of a Funny Story in Toronto, I heard some fellow attendees grumbling that he was "just being Zach Galifianakis." Yes and no. The performance certainly incorporates the actor's familiar lumbering-bear carriage and channeled-from-Planet Zontar rhythms. But Galifianakis funnels all of his quirks, particularly that shaggy, "Who, me?" mix of diffidence and blustering confidence, into the service of rounding out the character. It's less a selfless performance than one that's full of self; it's haphazardly but effectively Methodlike.
Galifianakis' Bobby skulks through the movie in a bulky, brackish-colored sweater that can't hide the more physical aspects of his performance. His back is always straight, and his barrel chest is puffed out as if to advertise his unassailable self-possession, but his legs shuffle somewhat lackadaisically -- it's as if, inside him, two separate motors were fighting for domination, one timid and uncertain, the other swaggering. Individual sections of his hair jet off in random crazy-person directions, but he speaks with such dry authority -- in one scene, giving Craig some exceedingly smart and much-needed dating advice -- that his air of uncombed nonchalance begins to look like a style choice and not just bad grooming.
The movie's most obviously metaphorical scene is also its most exhilarating one, a fantasy sequence in which Craig, Bobby and other denizens of this not-so-nuts nuthouse perform David Bowie and Queen's Under Pressure. Dressed in sequins, satin and feathers instead of their usual depressive garb, they're dream versions of themselves, bolder, braver happier people than they (or perhaps most of us) know how to be in real life. Galifianakis' Bobby sports not just a velvet cape but also vast resources of determination and bravado, and there are spangles in his beard instead of crumbs. It's a miraculous, if temporary, transformation, but it also represents a fragile beam of hope. It's Kind of a Funny Story never posits that there's a miracle cure-all for serious depression in; even so, Galifianakis is the picture's modest, stubby patron saint.