The Rest of Us: A dead man's two families grudgingly cohabit in a sweet spirited film that plays like a pilot

By Liam Lacey

Rating: B-plus

A first and second wife of a recently dead man unexpectedly find themselves co-habiting in The Rest of Us, a low-key, smart, woman-centric film that evokes the sad, funny characters of the short stories of Ann Beattie or Lorrie Moore.  

Two half-sisters and a widowed second wife find social balance in The Rest of Us.

Montreal-based Aisling Chin-Yee, an experienced producer (Rhymes for Young Ghouls) but first-time director, finds a fluid, light tone in adapting Toronto-based writer Alanna Francis’s efficient, wryly-observed screenplay. The plot, set over a few warm summer weeks, follows the shifting allegiances and rivalries between four female characters: a beautiful successful middle-aged author, her rebellious college-aged daughter, a messy working-class young widow and her grieving, watchful child.  

 An entirely-convincing Heather Graham leads a strong cast as Cami, the hot-and-knows-it, middle-aging ex-spouse, who has found success as a well-off children’s author and illustrator. She has celebrated her independent success by building a modern country home with a big swimming pool. 

While her obstreperous college-age daughter, Aster (Sophie Nélisse), is home on summer break, they receive a phone call. Aster’s dad and Cami’s ex, Craig, who left them for a new woman a decade ago, has had a premature heart attack and drowned in the bathtub.

"I didn't know he took baths" is Aster’s response.

At a post-funeral reception, we meet the stricken wife no. 2, Rachel (Jodi Balfour, who played Jackie O in The Crown) who has an eight-year-old daughter, Tallulah (Abigail Pniowsky). Grief is only the beginning of their troubles. 

It turns out that Craig, who we see only as a friendly-looking guy in family photographs, was deep in debt. Rachel and her daughter are broke and soon to be homeless.  Cami, in a surprising act of empathy complicated by covert guilt, invites Rachel and her daughter to live with her until they get on the feet. 

Well, not to live with them as in share the fancy house, but to lodge in the RV that sits on the property, where Cami and Aster had lived while she built her dream home. Aster is enraged.  She’s been storing a decade’s worth of resentment against the woman, who broke up her family. Besides, the RV is her hangout where she has secret trysts with her best friend’s boyfriend. Infidelity is a family liability. 

Bonds form in in combinations of strategic alliance and empathy: Aster takes a sibling interest in younger half-sister, Tallulah, and subsequently bonds with Rachel, who she’d dismissed as her father’s mistress. Cami provides home-cooked meals and approving affection to the grieving eight-year-old. She offers financial advice and a friendly shoulder to Rachel, though her empathy is complicated with class condescension and guilt.

There’s a risk of overselling a modest movie like The Rest of Us, which feels a little pat and self-congratulatory in its resolution. But it’s generous spirited and, at 80 minutes, doesn’t overstay its welcome. The Rest of Us resembles a pilot episode of a cable series like Big Little Lies or Dead to Me, about women bonding around a collective trauma and big blue swimming pools. And if anyone wanted to stretch it to a season, I’d be happy to tune in.

The Rest of Us. Directed by Aisling Chin-Yee. Written by Alana Francis. Cast: Heather Graham, Sophie Nélisse, Abigail Pniowsky, Jodi Balfour. The Rest of Us is available on VOD from June 16.