Grating and mind-numbingly pandering, there's not a single genuine moment to be found in Silver Linings Playbook. There is, at least, the effervescent presence of Jennifer Lawrence, who at least elevates every scene she's in. But she's the only one bringing nuanced work alongside actors who are pure caricature. Bradley Cooper, Robert De Niro and Jacki Weaver, in particular, could hardly be in worse form, offering performances without the slightest hint of humanity in them.
David O. Russell's script is pure amateurism. He feels the need to cram all of his small ensemble into every scene, even when they have no place there (e.g. the psychiatrist at the football game, the cop at the dance competition). This gives the false sense that people from all walks of life are bonding when, in fact, this underscores the phoniness. And what could be further from reality when, out of nowhere, someone shouts to a busload of Philadelphia Eagles fans who happen to be Indian, "Go back to your own country! The Eagles are our team!"
The gags here are about as subtle, revolving around something as stupid as a mispronunciation of Trazodone. The so-called drama includes a manic episode where Cooper freaks out about his missing wedding video. Such scenes are painfully out of place considering the serious tonal shift it requires from broad comedy, but it emphasizes just how bad Cooper is in the lead. It's all the more reason why I'm certainly overrating Lawrence, who at least can read a line without seeming like she's in a high school play.
