'A Real Pain' shows how grief affects people differently

Culkin's layered Oscar-winning performance as one of two cousins whose grandmother's family went through the Holocaust lets Eisenberg's latest film explore the different ways people process pain

Kieran Culkin and Jesse Eisenberg in "A Real Pain"
Searchlight Pictures
Kieran Culkin and Jesse Eisenberg in "A Real Pain"

'A Real Pain' shows how grief affects people differently

In his second directorial venture, American actor Jesse Eisenberg delves into the complexities of pain—how we perceive it, process it, and live with it—in his film, A Real Pain, which follows cousins Benji (Kieran Culkin) and David (Eisenberg) Kaplan as they embark on a Jewish heritage tour of Poland, paid for by their late grandmother, to trace their family’s history, as one of her final wishes.

Poland is the land she left behind when her family emigrated to the United States. Interestingly, Eisenberg—who was raised in a Jewish family—traces some of his ancestry back to Eastern Europe. He wrote the screenplay and directed the film, which is an intimate exploration of personal grief and broader questions around historical memory.

Benji and David were not only cousins but childhood friends. Such friendships can seem both effortless and profound, forged in the intensity of youth, but as people grow and change, as their interests diverge, bonds that once seemed unbreakable fray, which is what happened to Benji and David.

Reckoning and rediscovery

The pair share a past and a deep connection with their grandmother, who had died months earlier. Yet their childhood friendship, like so many others, failed to withstand the test of time and they drifted. Reuniting in Poland is both a reckoning and rediscovery. One of the film’s central themes is how two people, shaped by the same roots, can endure similar struggles yet cope in entirely different ways.

Their guided tour is with a small group of Jewish travellers: a middle-aged couple, a recently divorced woman, and a male Jewish convert, who appears to be the most devout among them (hardly surprising, since conversion to Judaism is arduous, requiring years of study and commitment). Leading the tour is a non-Jewish British guide who is deeply fascinated by Jewish heritage and history.

From the outset, tensions emerge. Benji, played masterfully by Kieran Culkin, has erratic tendencies and sharp wit that make him an informal leader in the group. In contrast to Benji’s uninhibited openness, David is less open with his emotions and maintains rigid social boundaries.

One of the film's central themes is how two people, shaped by the same roots, can endure similar struggles yet cope in entirely different ways

Though they share a common cultural and ethnic background, their approaches to life as adults could not be more different. Benji embraces adventure without hesitation and flings himself at the world, whereas David moves through it with meticulous calculation, ever conscious of consequences, embarrassed by Benji's impudence.

This underscores their fundamental disconnect, with Benji reminding David of who he once was before life wore him down. Their clashes are relentless, sometimes involving the group, and testing everyone's patience. Yet, despite their differences, their bond—rooted in childhood and family—somehow endures. Heated debates give way to moments of nostalgia, softening the sharper edges of their arguments.

Remembering tragedy

The most striking clash between Benji, David, and the rest of the group comes when they board a first-class train to another Holocaust site in Poland. While the others settle into the comfort of their seats, Benji recoils at the irony—Jews traveling in luxury through a country where, not so long ago, their ancestors were crammed into cattle cars then transported like livestock to their deaths.

Searchlight Pictures
Kieran Culkin and Jesse Eisenberg in "A Real Pain"

This moment gets to the film's core philosophical dilemma: how should tragedy be remembered? Benji resents the sterile, curated experience of Holocaust tourism, where suffering is packaged into digestible facts and figures, stripped of its raw, lived reality. To him, such tours risk trivialising the very horrors they aim to commemorate. He thinks pain must be felt and confronted, not observed from a distance.

David, on the other hand, argues that dwelling too much on the past can be paralysing. He sees grief as something that must be acknowledged but contained—assigned a time and place so that life can continue. Benji pushes back. If they cannot fully confront this pain during a journey designed to follow the footsteps of their ancestors' suffering, he says, then when and where should they?

This debate is a live one, in a world saturated with suffering, from wars and genocides to environmental disasters, where tragedy is ever-present and often ignored. How do we reconcile the weight of collective grief with the need to carry on? How do we live knowing that we are helpless in the face of global catastrophe?

The film's story tackles the question: How do we reconcile the weight of collective grief with the need to carry on?

As the film progresses, the contrast between Benji and David deepens, particularly in their response to personal struggles. Benji's mental health battles show themselves in erratic mood swings and, at times, a descent into suicidal thoughts. David is also in turmoil, but his coping mechanisms are clinical, including therapy and medication.

Their suffering is not identical in nature. For instance, David sees Benji as charismatic, magnetic, and the centre of attention, so he feels he has no reason to despair. How could someone with such a commanding presence think about killing themselves? 

Elevating this film beyond thought-provoking narrative is Culkin's extraordinary performance. Layered with vulnerability and bravado, it earned him an Oscar, a Golden Globe, a BAFTA, and a Screenwriters' Guild Award.

From 2018-23, Culkin starred as Roman Roy in the hit TV series Succession. Like Benji, Roman is outwardly confident, whose sharp wit and social dexterity mask a well of unresolved sorrow. For a subject like the Holocaust, A Real Pain needed an actor that could do that. It got one.

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