Summary

Jules offers a refreshing alternative to big-budget summer blockbusters with its indie-smallness and 87-minute runtime. The film combines elements of quirky sci-fi and touching comedy-drama, making it a lighthearted and empathetic watch for multiple generations. Jules explores the role of loneliness and aging, highlighting the importance of acceptance and the compelling journey that older characters face.

Editor’s note: This piece was written during the 2023 WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. Without the labor of the writers and actors currently on strike, the movie being covered here wouldn’t exist.

Hollywood tends to wind down their big-budget offerings in August as the calendar transitions into the awards-minded fall season, so might I suggest giving Jules a chance? Its indie-smallness and 87-minute runtime are a welcome tonic for a summer season defined by blockbuster bloat. It gives talented actors the space to do good work, and sits right in the pocket of quirky sci-fi and touching comedy-drama. Most importantly, it’s a lighthearted, empathetic film that multiple generations of family can see together and all find something worth taking with them.

Jules, directed by Marc Turtletaub from a script by Gavin Steckler, is not named for its protagonist, 78-year-old Milton (Ben Kingsley), who lives alone in his western Pennsylvania home with occasional help from his veterinarian daughter Denise (Zoë Winters). Instead, it’s named after what he and fellow elderly local Sandy (Harriet Sansom Harris) come to call the alien (Jade Quon) that crash lands in his backyard one night. Milton may have always been a bit odd, but Denise has noticed some worrying signs of cognitive decline that the rest of their town has started to pick up on. So, when he claims to have an alien staying at his house, no one takes him seriously — until Sandy, and later Joyce (Jane Curtin), actually see the little blue space man.

Zoë Winters and Ben Kingsley in Jules

The plot sees Jules work to fix the damaged spaceship as the NSA searches for its landing spot, but this film isn’t really driven by narrative. Much of the movie’s comedy comes from what these characters decide to do when faced with an extraterrestrial visitor; the bones of a science-fiction story hold Jules together, but rather than rising to the grandeur of that occasion, Milton, Sandy, and Joyce absorb the scenario into their small-town lives. All three find themselves opening up to Jules, who doesn’t speak, but whose eyes, they all agree, seem very understanding. Milton treats the alien like just another house guest. His initial tour explains which remotes turn on the TV and points out the reading material in the bathroom, in case going takes some time. They want to help, but they have no idea how, so they just do their best to be nice.

Jules’ real focus is on how this shared secret causes Milton, Sandy, and Joyce to start spending a lot of time together, and thereby grapple with the role loneliness has played in their lives. There is humor here, too, but not always. All three are introduced to us as people who go to every town council meeting to speak at the open mic, though the council makes clear they have no obligation to respond. The film gradually probes how they came to need this form of one-way interaction as they’ve grown older, and their stories aren’t without pain. Milton’s is given particular focus as he and Denise argue over his health, which he responds to with a mixture of fear and denial. The script doesn’t play it the way it could have — sure, the alien actually exists, but we know all is not well for our protagonist. He will have to confront it eventually.

Jade Quon, Harriet Sansom Harris and Jane Curtin in Jules

Threading these emotions together into a unified tone is the movie’s greatest challenge, and it succeeds by Turtletaub’s instinct to let the actors do the dramatic work. Formally, we could be pushed into those high emotion moments, with the right camera movement here and a surge of the score there, but Jules never strays from its lightness. Instead, Harris, Curtin, Winters, and Kingsley especially stay as grounded in their performances as possible. The cast never loses sight that they are playing real(istic) people, and real people don’t always find their lives funny. A moment that keys us into this approach comes after the spaceship’s crash but before Milton has really made contact. The situation has been comedic thus far, but when he tries to call his daughter in the middle of the night and admits to her (unfortunately full) voicemail that he’s very scared, Kingsley doesn’t play it like a joke. Milton is really alone, and really afraid.

It’s always a joy to watch good actors do good work. Even Quan, the professional stunt performer underneath full-body makeup and prosthetics, gets to make the most of Jules’ every gesture, until a single movement at the climax becomes perhaps the most heartwarming moment in the film. But Jules is also powered by something that comes from focusing on older characters, who rarely get such a spotlight — an awareness that their problems can’t necessarily be fixed by the end. Aging is hard, and while challenges like loneliness can be overcome, the best hope for others, such as what Milton faces, is acceptance. Even in a film predominantly interested in making you laugh, that’s a compelling journey to go on, and Hollywood would do well to tell more stories like this one.

Jules releases in theaters nationwide August 11. The film is 87 minutes long and is rated PG-13 for strong language.