Mark Reviews Movies: JERRY & MARGE GO LARGE

Jerry & Marge Go Large, Paramount+

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Review by Mark Dujsik | June 16, 2022

There is a very sweet story, based on a true one, at the heart of Jerry & Marge Go Large. In director David Frankel's movie, two retirees, who have been married to each other since they were 17, figure out and execute an ingenious—and perfectly legal—scheme that guarantees they will earn a profit from playing a state lottery game. The truly sweet part is that it's not really about the money for the eponymous characters, and when it does come to the issue of the money, they have a bigger, more altruistic picture in mind.

In theory, these characters should define the course, tone, and focus of their own story. Since this is a dramatization "inspired by" a real-life tale, though, there must also be drama here, even if it distracts from and undermines the core of what this story appears to really want to be. Brad Copeland's screenplay introduces a few things that distract and undermine just enough, unfortunately.

Here, we meet Jerry Selbee (Bryan Cranston), a professional math whiz living in a small town in Michigan and working his last day at a cereal company. After more than 40 years, his job is being phased out, just in time for him to retire.

Jerry, though, is not the type to sit back, relax, and enjoy his golden years. With unwanted retirement comes a lot of down time, boredom, and routine trips into town that don't amount to much. His family buys him a fishing boat, thinking it will give him an activity to enjoy, but only numbers and formulas have ever given him any sense of happiness. As for the boat, Jerry almost sinks his old, mostly dependable pickup truck trying to get the vessel in the water, before beaching the boat to save the truck. He's not a hands-on, go-out-and-do-things kind of guy, which has made relationships—especially with his now-adult children (played by Jake McDorman and Anna Camp)—a bit of a challenge.

Jerry's wife is Marge (Annette Bening), who's looking forward to spending some time with a husband who has been absent from their life together. That doesn't seem to change much with Jerry's retirement, as he's still distant but now without professional responsibilities and home while being so. Of all the conflicts and potential complications that Copeland injects into this story, there's a major one right here in how this long-lasting marriage seems right on the verge of falling apart out of disappointment, just at a point of so much promise.

It is apparent within this relationship, though, thanks to Bening, who hints at some deeper frustrations and dissatisfaction beneath Marge's polite smile, and Cranston, whose Jerry is so caught up in his malaise and, soon enough, his seemingly too-good-to-be-true scheme to even notice that his wife is unhappy. That scheme, of course, involves the lottery, as Jerry calculates a loophole in one particular game that, on the regular event of the jackpot earnings being rolled down to players who predict fewer numbers, means multiple wins—as long as someone buys enough tickets.

The math and the logistics are unimportant. Jerry figures it out, gambling the couple's life savings on one game, and after her husband accidentally lets it slip that he's hiding thousands of dollars in the pantry, Marge wants in on the action, too. When Michigan's game ends, the couple makes routine trips to Massachusetts to play that state's game, printing and checking thousands of tickets—and bonding in process. As word spreads, more people in the town, which has seen much better days, want a stake in the winnings.

All of this works to one degree or another—as clever and good-natured comedy, as a look at a marriage undergoing a renewed purpose and passion, as a feel-good tale about underdogs making good for themselves and, more importantly, doing good for even more underdogs around them. Jerry and Marge's fortunes rise, but they remain modest and humble with their winnings. Meanwhile, all of their friends—such as neighbor Howard (Michael McKean) and his wife Shirley (Ann Harada), who used to run a local jazz festival until the stage collapse and repairs were financially untenable—and acquaintances—such as Jerry's accountant (played by Larry Wilmore), who has to take a second job that quickly becomes his primary one—start to thrive and renovate the town back to life.

That's the fun and kind heart of this story, and there's a feeling Copeland and Frankel don't quite trust that, as well as these characters, quite enough. Instead, the movie crams in two subplots: One, which doesn't amount to much, involves a journalistic investigation into the lottery, and the other, which adds a thick layer of forced conflict, revolves around a Harvard student named Tyler (Uly Schlesinger), who also figures out the loophole, determines that Jerry and Marge are taking away from his potential profits, and sets out to destroy the couple's operation.

That second one strains some credulity from a story that otherwise seems mostly grounded in reality. More to the point, it strains Jerry and Marge's tale, while pushing the town and its population off to the sides. Jerry & Marge Go Large doesn't need a villain, but the existence of one does prevent the movie from fully embracing its inherently good-natured spirit.

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