Chemistry

THE SKELETON TWINS (A-minus) - Recent "Saturday Night Live" alums Kristen Wiig and Bill Hader unleash a tour-de-force as estranged siblings who find their childhood spark while battling their own forms of depression.

These are two funny, funny people, but to call them mere comedians is a disservice. Not that this movie isn't hilarious at times. But this is a serious story, and Wiig and Hader bring extensive nuance and depth to believable characters navigating a rather simple narrative. I was in tears during the first five minutes, and I laughed heartily throughout.

The film begins with Wiig's Maggie contemplating a handful of pills as her phone rings with the news that her brother, Milo, slit his wrists out in L.A. but survived. She flies out to be with him and brings him back to live with her and her husband, Lance (a pitch-perfect Luke Wilson), in upstate New York. It's their first time together in 10 years.

Maggie's marriage of two years is obviously not satisfying (Lance happily proclaims that they are trying to have a child, but Maggie's not really cooperating). She flirts with her scuba coach. She struggles to keep things together; wine helps. Milo is gay, and while back in his hometown, he looks up an old flame, a closeted older man, from a relationship that began inappropriately and ended badly. Both siblings make really bad choices and struggle to recapture their intimate connection while trying not to judge the other. ("Maybe being good just isn't your thing," Milo reasons to his sister at one point.) Hader is just a wonderful hot mess, moping around in his Flaming Lips and Sonic Youth T-shirts. (The soundtrack is notably retro, including Blondie and OMD.)

Once those pieces are expertly put in place, the movie hums along, achieving perfection right up until its climax, which is corny and rather ridiculous. It's a forgivable sin, considering the loveliness of the first 85 minutes.

This film emerged from the Duplass Factory, executive-produced by Mark and Jay Duplass, indie big-foots behind such titles as "The Puffy Chair," "Cyrus," "Safety Not Guaranteed" and the recent "The One I Love." Here they work for the second time with Craig Johnson, who wrote and directed "True Adolescents," starring Mark Duplass. Johnson directs here with a deft touch, and he co-wrote the spare, smart script with Mark Heyman, who last penned the dark "Black Swan." The balance of humor and drama is as close to real life as it gets.

Johnson and Heyman craft a tight, relatable story that still allows for just the right amount of comedic riffing by Wiig and Hader, who overlapped considerably as marquee cast members of "SNL," starting in 2005. Their repartee seems effortless. Their playfulness while high on nitrous oxide (she's a dental hygienist) is magical. Even a lip-sync scene to a Starship song, which could have been a death blow of preciousness in the wrong hands, hits its mark. The sibling bond feels achingly real. They were incredibly close as children, especially after the death of their father as young teens. Their adult melancholy is heavy and palpable.

Your opinions of these two actors may vary wildly; detractors might find their turns here cutesy and insufferable. The supporting cast is strong. Wilson is essential, providing the glue to the story in a subtle performance that recalls his work as the ex-husband on HBO's "Enlightened." Ty Burrell (from TV's "Modern Family") has the right tone as Milo's former lover. Joanna Gleason has a cameo as the inattentive mom in a painful showdown scene with her children.

But this is Wiig and Hader's show, and they wring every emotion and gag they can in service of a quite moving story. I ached with them, I laughed at them, I was in awe of their talents. It's hard not to get swept up in such a well-made film.

BONUS TRACK
Before viewing "Skeleton Twins," I sneaked in to see the first half hour of "This Is Where I Leave You," and the contrast in tones is notable. Tina Fey is incredibly witty and talented, but she's not much of an actress. This story of a quartet of adult siblings forced to sit shiva for a week to mourn their dad under the watch of their mother, played by a hyper Jane Fonda, felt forced, broad, jokey and hokey. (You can tell where this one's going right off the bat, and I could sense it was about to go off the rails right at that one-third mark.)

It played like a winking ensemble exercise rather than a believable film. I could watch Jason Bateman and Adam Driver all day, and they are on their game here, so I'll probably watch the whole film someday.