The Intern

Ricardo Skaff
1st Oct 2015

There’s a moment in Nancy Meyers The Intern, when the retiree, widower and curmudgeonly septuagenarian, Ben, played by Robert De Niro, stands in a full-length mirror to practice not blinking in the hope of placating his new young online CEO boss (Anne Hathaway). Those who remember a time before the once-heralded ‘Greatest Actor Of All Time’ may recognise echoes of a younger, hungrier actor in the role that made his career. For most however, they will see the cranky, lie-detector-giving dad from Meet The Parents awkwardly attempting to avoid ‘pissing off’ the continuously flustered and perpetually over-worked and technology-dependent Anne Hathaway.

It is this very obliviousness and yet simultaneous longing for the meaning and simplicity of the past that forms the thematic backbone of Nancy Meyer’s latest attempt at breezy, dispensable cinematic fluff. The director of such mod-rom-com staples as It’s Complicated and Something’s Gotta Give as well as the screenwriter of 90’s remake/classic Father of the Bride has forged a successful cinematic career out of generational clashes and the often-hilarious conflict that arises when one generation attempts to traverse another.

It is well-worn ground, but with the rapidly changing, social-media infused climate that is modern gender relations, and the ever-evolving concept of work/life balance, there is still so much to be said. It is unfortunate then, that such intriguing dramatic potential is so utterly wasted in a film more concerned with superficial silliness and plot-contrivance than character or conflict even remotely resembling reality.

The plot, as it is, is straightforward enough. Widower Ben (De Niro), answers an ad (via a surprisingly competent video diary) for a program placing elderly-retirees as interns for a booming online fashion-store run by young, entrepreneurial millennial Jules (Hathaway). Much to her initial annoyance, Ben is placed as her personal assistant and tasked with assisting with her hectic workload and eventually - and predictably - her increasingly crumbling home-life.  The dramatic premise is promising, even invigorating. Moments such as Ben revealing to Jules that her office is in the very same warehouse that he worked in for 40 years, tingle with a depth and emotional authenticity that come from a deeper and more thoughtful film. Unfortunately, these moments are all but lost amidst gags about elderly erections and absurd scenes of intergenerational tom-foolery (a scene involving a home break-in is possibly one of the most inane and meaningless plot points in recent memory).  

Granted, there are some genuinely interesting ideas buried amidst all the chaos and cliché. The notion that in between all the meetings, conference calls and emails, there is a sad and very real loss of communication and growing ‘devaluing’ of more traditional ideals of family and relationships. Although in Meyer’s hands, such conflicts and notions are apparently unimportant. Instead we are left with the confusing and surprisingly antiquated ‘message’ that in order to be happy you must ultimately choose between loyalty to work or family. Scratch beneath the surface and you could be forgiven for revealing the very disturbingly simplistic and glaringly-sexist value system that Meyer’s youthful characters seem so desperate to subvert - albeit a choice supplanted in the hands of the opposing gender.

In the end, and in the attempt to strip real-world issues of all their weight and complexity, Myers has created a vacuous mess of cliché and inconsequence. A lavishly presented Instagram-worthy fairy-floss Martini that hides a flavourless centre. Make no mistake, The Intern is ‘reality’ for those who prefer life through filters. Like the promise of an internship in a flashy but morally vacuous company, this is a position best avoided.

The Intern is in cinemas now.