Spoiler Alert debuts in theaters on Dec. 2, 2022.
In a year of movies about movies (Bardo, The Fabelmans, Empire of Light, and so on), it’s almost refreshing to get one nominally about ’80s sitcoms, even though it’s really about TV journalist Michael Ausiello (Jim Parsons) telling the story of his late photographer husband, Kit Cowan (Ben Aldridge), who died from cancer in 2015. Then again, Spoiler Alert is only really “about” television in the most passing sense, with brief and tenuous connections made between Michael’s perspective on his field, and his approach to real life. Parsons narrates the story, which slips into sitcom-esque flashbacks on occasion — single-camera with a laugh track seems to be the lens through which Michael views his own life — but director Michael Showalter is seldom interested in telling this tragic romance with much flair or emotional allure.
The result is a deeply plain movie that, though it has a warm and welcome palette, features great performances, and captures the outward shape of a relationship, has very little else to offer.
The title makes little sense when shortened from that of Ausiello’s memoir (“Spoiler Alert: The Hero Dies”), but its opening scene fills in the missing gap, showing Michael laying with a terminally ill Kit on his last day alive. The rest of the movie chronicles the 14 years leading up to this moment, casting a dark and unavoidable cloud over its central relationship. Michael, a timid wallflower, reluctantly accompanies his coworker to a gay bar, where he meets the sweet and sexy Kit. A mismatch on paper, they strike an immediate and adorable chord, but the actors rarely have physical chemistry despite their numerous intimate scenes. Part of the blame falls on Showalter, who captures sex and even kissing with a stilted, distant hand — rarely has a queer film felt so safe and conventional — but Parsons and Cowan have enough by way of upbeat energy to sell at least some semblance of a dynamic between Michael and Kit.
It’s difficult to gauge who either of them are as people beyond their interactions. Michael has a collection of Smurfs memorabilia that’s played for laughs, but neither man’s perspective — as a journalist and photographer respectively — seem to inform their worldview, and little about their dialogue or behavior suggests they have any kind of depth or history beyond the immediate circumstances of a scene. This is especially unfortunate given the vulnerability both actors put on display, bringing their characters’ respective insecurities to the fore (Kit is still closeted; Michael is afraid he’ll leave him for someone better).
However, Spoiler Alert is concerned, first and foremost, with fitting all 14 years of Ausiello’s tale into its 112-minute runtime. So, while the highs of Michael and Kit’s relationship have just enough spark to be convincing, the lows play more like boxes checked off for the sake of fidelity. This includes extended periods where they’re forced to work through their issues in couple’s therapy, but it’s all reduced to a head-scratching rom com montage that gives their most rigorous and defining romantic moments a mere passing glance.
When they’re visited by Kit’s high-strung parents (Sally Field and Bill Irwin), the situation is mildly awkward until Kit is forced to come out to them, but compared to Showalter’s The Big Sick — which was about the friction between the main character and his future in-laws — Spoiler Alert frames even this vital drama as a gag to be swept under the rug with a quickness. There certainly needn’t be a binary choice between “comedy” and “drama” (The Big Sick deftly blended the two), but Michael and Kit’s story is frequently reduced to the former for most of its chronology.
Spoiler Alert is just about saved by its cast, especially Parsons and Aldridge.
When things finally get more serious — which is to say, when Kit receives his diagnosis, and when his condition eventually worsens — the movie has no choice but to let the circumstances speak for themselves. The performances elevate the story just beyond the realm of Showalter’s dull non-embellishments, if only for him to find a sprinkle of late third-act panache when it’s least dramatically appropriate, robbing the film’s most touching moments of their power in the process.
Spoiler Alert is just about saved by its cast, especially Parsons and Aldridge. But it’s hard to avoid wondering what kind of work they might have done in the hands of a better director, one capable of molding their physical and emotional dynamic into something deeply felt — rather than simply seen — so that losing it might feel more meaningful.
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