Krasinski, who also directed the film, may have spread himself too thin; there's a desperation about the closing scenes, cluttered as they are with bouncy pop songs on the soundtrack.
Opening with a promising first act comprising well-observed, edgy humor, the film ends with an overdose of treacle so syrupy, so pungent, it will unsettle the strongest tummy.
It is a perfect storm of boredom.
J. R. Jones
Jenkins and Martindale, both old hands at this sort of "dramedy" material, come through for Krasinski as the story darkens in the second half.
"The Hollars" is an uneven, ineffective and self-conscious dysfunctional family comedy/drama with a Sundance-y vibe, and scene after scene in which the greatly talented and usually quite likable cast members keep stepping in big piles of wrong choices.
If Krasinski relates in any significant way to his character's self-doubt, you wouldn't know it from the movie, on which he does confident double duty as director.
"The Hollars" drives inexorably to a conclusion that feels as manipulatively mawkish as it is impossibly tidy, typical of a genre that too often tries to have it both ways.
If there were such a thing as a paint-by-numbers kit to create an indie flick, the end result would look something like this.
G. Allen Johnson
The film struggles so hard to be funny that the comic potential is diluted. In fact, sometimes it seems downright bland.