A few good cameos from David Warshofsky, as a prickly old friend of Wilson's, and Margo Martindale, as a date gone wrong, grace the torpid landscape. But it should all be sharper and funnier than it is.
The plot opts for cop-out sentimentality and begins to melt into goo.
Woody Harrelson is the only life in this party, a misstep that gives Daniel Clowes' graphic novel the indie-cutesy treatment.
You'll want to spend time with "Wilson." Even if nobody else does.
Perhaps I've seen one too many movies in which men who need to grow up have to wreak havoc on other people's lives to do it. And this is that one too many.
Like Wilson himself, the movie is a bit of a throwback, out-of-step with the times, but whimsical in its execution.
A fractured, heartsick, funny adventure in mundane misery.
Harrelson is as engaging as the man's personality allows. But Wilson struggles with tone, shifting from monotonously bleak to predictably satirical to improbably sanguine.
J. R. Jones
Craig Johnson, coming to this project from his indie success The Skeleton Twins, can't find the heart in this fractured, disappointed family.