‘Closing Night’ Review: Even Sarah Paulson and Naomi Watts Can’t Save This Mangled Misfire of a Melodrama

TIFF: Cody Fern's feature directorial debut lured a murderer's row of exceptional acting talents, but its wildly uneven tone and handle on tricky material do none of them any favors.

There’s something not quite right with world-famous actress Sandra Vale. Her latest Broadway turn (“Mother Courage,” an incredibly funny pick, the more you learn about her) is about to open, with NYC papered with signs declaring it the “role of a lifetime,” but she can’t quite nail her lines. It’s like her brain is stopping, stuttering, shuttering. Is that why she’s sent out a raft of professionally printed invitations to her long-estranged family members to join her for the show and a reunion? You’d think so! After all, that makes sense, but alas, like much else in Cody Fern‘s directorial debut, even the most obvious of choices simply don’t add up.

Amusingly titled “Closing Night” — enjoy Googling this one — the Australian actor clearly brings a lot of verve to his first film (co-written with fellow actor Devon Bostick), certainly enough to snag a cast that all but demands being referred to as “enviable.” But such luck doesn’t extend far beyond the opening credits, which tout the star power of Sarah Paulson, Naomi Watts, Dianne Wiest, plus rising stars Odessa A’zion and Toby Wallace. They’ve been assembled for a brain-breaker of a misfired melodrama, at first darkly amusing, before plunging headlong into soap opera-style twists and a general sense of heavy depression that no one can shake.

As Sandra (Paulson) is prepping for opening night, her daffy sister April (Naomi Watts) is stumbling her way through the city. She’s there for the reunion too, though she sure doesn’t want to be (you can tell, because she sniffs at the invitation she’s brought all the way from Michigan, before ripping it up in her dingy hotel room). Her son Theo (Wallace, offering the film’s only well-calibrated performance) is excited for the reunion, even as his girlfriend Lucy (a criminally underused A’zion) is a bit worried about other familial issues. Way back in their hometown, Sandra and April’s mother Diane (Wiest) refuses to attend the big event.

It’s obvious that big secrets are about to be revealed — we’re repeatedly told that Sandra cut off the entire family 30 years ago — and Fern and Bostick don’t hold back on some early truths, including that Theo has actually been spending some time with the prickly Sandra. But these little offerings don’t do much to obscure the sense that there’s much more at stake here — whoa, nelly, is there — and it’s about to be meted out in the hammiest, harshest of ways.

Family life is hard, surely, and so is finding your space within it, especially when you’re as fucked-up as the Donaldsons. Coping mechanisms abound in the cheapest of ways — panic-induced kleptomania! alcoholism! ugly sweaters! an incredible amount of screaming! — but the crux of the problem is far deeper. Nearly everyone here acts as if they are in, not just a different world, but a different reality. April is a manic pixie demon, Sandra long ago overdosed on “What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?,” and Wiest is almost on the correct melodramatic wavelength (a moment she demands a hotel room “with a mini-bar” is one of the film’s brief highlights).

Tasked with shepherding his major stars through bombastic performances, Fern’s directing lacks focus. This tone — again, we assume melodrama? — is a tough one, and the more dramatic elements of the film really don’t suit it. Nothing matches.

The finer details are just as abysmal. Sandra is a world-famous actress, yet she has no staff or anyone around her to assist or placate her. (And is she more a movie actress or a theater actress? Audiences will spend too much time wondering.) April’s propensity for nicking small items that don’t belong to her is mentioned only once, transparently used to drive a plotline that’s already shoddy. Diane is a miserable drunk, because why not? (Need help recognizing the meaning of her slurring? She’s always got a vodka bottle at hand.) Lines that might otherwise seem primed for raucous laughter — a neurologist who expounds on the joys of Swiss bread? — are mired in the film’s woeful lack of humor.

Settings feel similarly inert and often mean-spirited (the family salon, clearly the pride of Diane’s life, is a fucking dump, and her and April’s dated house is just as bad). Partially shot on location in New York City, the necessary energy to carry this tale constantly flags, airless and sealed up tight against the rest of the world. Brief moments in real places — Theo and Lucy’s apartment, for one — are a balm, and then gone.

Much of the meat of “Closing Night” comes after its first act, turning much darker and deeper — and into far, far less funny territory — but Fern can’t keep hold of it. The sense this is all so over the top (and so we should laugh) is tough to shake, as is the film’s reliance on the revelation of big secrets (which make it feel as if something is always just lurking around the corner, none of it good). Brief flashes of profound performance, including a third act scream-a-thon between Paulson and Watts, offer glimpses of what could have been, only for that to be whisked away, curtains drawn, closed up tight.

Grade: D+

“Closing Night” premiered at the 2026 Toronto International Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.