Ulises Verón (Ricardo Darín), a renowned therapist, has lost faith in traditional psychological tools for treating his patients effectively. The source of his disillusionment is revealed in the opening scene of Therapy Done Right (or Lo Dejamos Acá), when Ulises rejects an award because he believes he could have done more to help a patient who recently died while hiking. Unable to shake the feeling that conventional therapy had failed his patient, Ulises begins to question whether psychoanalysis, with its reliance on words, is adequate to help those who seek it. Should he have talked to his patient more? Was there something else he could have done as a therapist? Ulises has no definitive answers, but he arrives at a conviction: words alone can no longer help those who seek the services of professional psychoanalysts. "I need action. We need to be the change," he declares with determination. This motto translates into physical action that drives the story forward and lends credibility to the title Therapy Done Right. Needless to say, if you haven't watched the film, proceed further at your own risk.
The movie, written by Emanuel Diez and Hernán Goldfrid, is brimming with unrealized promise. In Ulises, the filmmakers have created a dedicated professional who takes his commitment to the extreme. He crosses every ethical boundary to develop a form of "invasive therapy," interfering in his patients' personal lives in an attempt to resolve their problems effectively. When a woman complains about her husband and the stress of her domestic life, Ulises confronts the man at a restaurant and bluntly tells him to leave his wife, arguing that he is living in a cage and must free himself for the benefit of both parties. Another woman talks about her strained relationship with her mother, prompting Ulises to arrange a face-to-face meeting in which the daughter is encouraged to speak openly about what troubles her in their relationship. Initially, the results are very positive. Both women express satisfaction, and Ulises comes to believe that his methods are working remarkably well.
So when Martín Bouchard (Diego Peretti), a best-selling author, lands on Ulises's couch complaining of writer's block, the therapist's next move seems almost inevitable. He first takes the time to understand Martín's routine: the author drinks heavily before writing, then revisits his work sober the following morning to edit it. Ulises subsequently begins writing Martín's novel for him. After the author goes to sleep, having typed whatever comes to mind while intoxicated, Ulises sneaks into his house with a pen drive and replaces Martín's words with a story of his own. Martín doesn't appear to suspect foul play, but he is astonished to discover what he believes he wrote in his intoxicated state the previous night. When this happens for the first time, Martín visits Ulises's office and criticizes "his text" for being, among other things, highbrow, hyper-intellectual, lacking in momentum, slow, and boring. Ulises takes the criticism to heart, refines his prose, and comes up with a better story, which Martín likes. Night after night, the ritual of replacing Martín's words is repeated until the novel is complete.
Consider the ideas these scenes generate. There's something here about ghostwriting, about receiving credit for work that isn't really yours. When Martín eventually confronts Ulises and complains that his best work isn't truly his own, we can hear the faint cry of an artist tormented by the realization that he is being celebrated for art he didn't compose. And what about Ulises? He, too, can be seen as an "artist," so obsessed with his "art" and with using it to connect with his "audiences" (his patients) directly, precisely, and emotionally that he is willing to cross every boundary in pursuit of "quality." Therapy Done Right is also conceived as a dark comedy; after all, it would be absurd to apply the mechanics of a prestige drama to material like this. But Goldfrid is unable to flesh out the intriguing ideas at the heart of the story or make the film particularly entertaining. Alas, the filmmakers sacrifice the promise of both intellectual richness and amusement in favor of a straightforward, mild dramedy muddled by half-baked thriller elements: a supposedly dead body, the anxiety of being caught by the police, and blackmail intended to protect one's image in the public.
Despite Ulises's morally and ethically questionable choices, the movie itself remains remarkably tidy. Even the ending is too manicured, too neat. Diez and Goldfrid seem content with the surface-level pleasures of their story, and that satisfaction feels dully self-congratulatory. It not only prevents them from realizing the film's true potential but also stops them from exploiting the material for even the cheapest of thrills. There is no joy in watching this movie, and there is very, very little joy in thinking about it. Perhaps the one thing Diez and Goldfrid could have learned from Ulises is the drive to be the best in their field. Or perhaps, given the sincerity and zeal with which Ulises sets about solving every problem, they should have let the therapist direct the film. If Martín's novel, which is actually written by Ulises, can receive unanimous acclaim from critics, who's to say Ulises's dark comedy wouldn't have earned glowing reviews across the board? Quick, let the therapist take the director's chair and release The Ulises Cut of Therapy Done Right on Netflix. If it turns out to be any good, we can call it Filmmaking Done Right.
Final Score - [3.5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times