It isn’t hyperbole to say that Amanda Peet gives the performance of a lifetime in “Fantasy Life.” There probably shouldn’t be any confusion between the actress and the role she inhabits as Dianne, a one-time screen star now in her early fifties who stopped booking parts a decade ago when the material wasn’t up to snuff. But there’s a wisdom and weariness to suggest Peet’s seen some things, and it can be unnerving to realize that it’s been about as long since she has been on the big screen herself. Her luminous return in Matthew Shear’s lightly comic drama about two people at a crossroads reminds that her fearlessness has been sorely missed as she throws any vanity out the window to play a walking tangle of anxieties, despite living quite comfortably with homes in New York and Martha’s Vineyard.
Seen as a bystander to her own life, it’s appropriate that Dianne isn’t introduced until roughly 20 minutes into Shear’s feature debut, only to gradually seize control of the narrative. Instead, “Fantasy Life” opens with Shear himself as Sam, a timid tax lawyer who finds out he’s being let go from his job. A visit to his therapist Fred (Judd Hirsch) reveals he has plenty of other issues that can trigger crippling panic attacks at any time, but finding a new gig won’t be one of them, when Fred’s wife and secretary Helen (Andrea Martin) suggests he could babysit for her son David (a perfectly blasé Alessandro Nivola) and his wife Dianne. At $300 for a night’s work, the pay could be comparable to what he made before, but beyond tending to a trio of rambunctious prepubescent sisters, he really earns his wages by dealing with their hapless parents. David will jump at any opportunity to chase his rock star dreams and latches onto a tour as part of a backup band for a Gov’t Mule member’s side project, while Dianne can barely be rustled out of bed in the morning, feeling like there’s nothing she’s capable of accomplishing.
If either David or Dianne had any of the initiative that would be required of a family of lesser means, they could surely find a better caretaker than Sam, who can barely look after himself. But that ends up becoming a bond between himself and Dianne when the two see a bit of themselves in each other. Their concerns could be easily dismissed as champagne problems, given the upper class milieu and the general lack of discussion of mental health issues such as depression, but Shear, a longtime actor himself, trusts his and Peet’s performances to radiate a level of deep dissatisfaction that becomes undeniable, if mostly imperceptible to others. He’s also recruited an extraordinary ensemble cast to touch on Sam and Dianne’s every nerve with Bob Balaban and Jessica Harper as her parents joining Hirsch and Martin as David’s, making a summer retreat at Martha’s Vineyard anything but a vacation, particularly after Sam is suspected of putting the kids in jeopardy during one of his panic attacks.
There are times when things can get a little too comfortable for an audience — the general trajectory of “Fantasy Life” isn’t much of a surprise, and the film is quite easy on the eye. But the clean, crisp compositions befitting of the luxurious lives led here do gently nudge the eye towards the messiness Sam and Dianne see when there isn’t much else to look at. Shear is careful in both the blocking and the reaction shots to show the impact others can have with just their presence, leading to a scene set around a dinner table with the entire family that is alternately hilarious and devastating, with the vitality of live theater. By the end, simply having a seat there paves the way for a satisfying conclusion. When “Fantasy Life” is leaning into its sly sense of humor and sensitivity, it lets everyone in.
