Expect not the George Clooney of smarm and circumstance. Although he has a plan, he is no Danny Ocean for the plan is vague and droll.
Although his eyes are bagged and heavy, he is no Michael Clayton either for Clayton had a handle on his predicament.
This George Clooney is Matt King, slapping around in sandals, "the back-up parent, the understudy" his life suddenly at a crossroads as his wife languishes in a coma.
His surroundings provide the clue. This is Hawaii but not the aquamarine Presley version. This is Hawaii as a mix of commuter-belt Surrey, drab downtown LA and Hastings if they planted palm trees and found sand.
The man, the islands and the story are downbeat and melancholy.
"My friends on the mainland think because I live in Hawaii, I live in paradise. Like a permanent vacation, we're all just out here drinking Mai Tais, shaking our hips and catching waves. Are they nuts?"
Matt King is loaded but not happy. As his wife shrivels in her hospital bed, King must make a decision on behalf of his extended family, (including a marvellously mellow Beau Bridges). As trustee of their inheritance - a parcel of pristine land - he alone can decide its fate.
Meanwhile his 10-year-old daughter Scottie is playing up and likely to follow in the path of rebellious older sibling Alexandra who has been sent away to sort out her attitude.
But the teenager's precocious strop has a cause. Before the accident, she discovered mum was having an affair - which is news to Matt and adds another dimension to his schlub crisis. He decides to track down the man but out of curiosity rather than fury, such is the low-key nature of his outlook.
The melancholy elements make for a slow, occasionally charmless drama from Alexander Payne, who has form with downbeat sad sacks (Sideways, About Schmidt).
However, the nuanced performances and relentless gloom is cut through with moments of maturity and humour (Clooney flip-flopping in a panic down the road like Embarrassing Dad is a sight).
Shailene Woodley, as the elder daughter, goes a sizeable way to stealing the movie from Clooney, who relishes deconstructing his Hollywood image but is probably miscast.
Amara Miller, the younger daughter, too is sufficiently real to be irritating and moving, often in the same scene.
The movie feels less than the sum of its parts but is still an assured and satisfying experience.
