By Douglas Wood
Rated R
Currently streaming on Prime, Hulu, Apple TV+, YouTube and Peacock
Sunshine Cleaning is the deceptively cheery title of the 2008 dramedy about biohazard waste removal. It’s also the name of the crime scene clean-up business started by Rose Lorkowski (Amy Adams, Doubt, Arrival) and her younger sister, Norah (Emily Blunt, Oppenheimer.) Referring to the smiley, anthropomorphized sun on their business card, Rose proudly enthuses, “Thought we’d put a positive spin on things!” Compared to the glass-half-empty Norah, Rose is a glass-half-full kinda gal, even if what’s inside the glass are bodily fluids.
When we first meet Rose, she’s eking out a living as a housemaid. It’s not hard to see the cheerleader captain she once was in her still lovely face, but these days, it takes sticking a bunch of ego-affirming post-its on her bathroom mirror to keep her spirits up. “You are powerful!” “You can do anything!” “You’re a winner!” they encourage. Rose refuses to admit she’s the loser she fears she’s become, but that doesn’t keep her from trying to maintain a motel-based relationship with Mac, a married cop played by the always-reliable Steve Zahn. Zahn turns what could have been a clichéd bad guy into a more complex, almost sympathetic character.
Rose’s stagnant life, however, doesn’t sink to the depths of her sister’s. Dependably undependable, Norah can’t seem to hold down a job and relies on donating blood for income. Consequently, she’s forced to live with her failed salesman father, Joe (an endearing Alan Arkin) whose get-rich-quick schemes never quite seem to work. (Probably not the best idea to try and convince a retailer to buy raw shrimp you bought off the back of a truck.)
In a lesser actor’s hands, Norah could be written off as a depressing dud, but Blunt (a scene-stealer in The Devil Wears Prada) delivers her characteristic bon mots with such unbridled disdain one can’t help but laugh. We root for her because her mordant observations clearly arise more from her character’s self-loathing than from simply being mean-spirited. This is especially apparent in her playful scenes with Rose’s difficult eight-year-old son, Oscar (a natural Jason Spevack) with whom she has a warm bond.
When Oscar’s teacher notifies Rose that her son has caused trouble at school and suggests he be put on medication, she impulsively pulls him out. But placing him in a better school means she’ll need more than the meager cash she earns as a maid. When Mac returns from a crime scene and mentions to Rose how much money the cleaner-uppers make, she perks up. Mac uses his connections as a police officer to get her and (a somewhat reluctant) Norah into the lucrative business. One thing leads to another and, before long, Sunshine Cleaning is born. The sisters manage to thrive in the male-dominated profession and their reputation grows. With a few jobs under their belts, they begin to find meaning in their work and discover that in the aftermath of a tragedy, their help is essential. “We come into people’s lives when they have experienced something profound and sad,” Rose says.
Set in a crime-ridden Albuquerque littered with strip malls, Sunshine Cleaning is directed with a no-fuss visual style by Christine Jeffs, who manages to shift tones effortlessly between black comedy and heartfelt drama. The high-concept premise could easily have become a silly female buddy film were it not for Jeff’s mantra to keep things real. Likewise, she circumvents the grim subject matter by infusing the film with plenty of well-observed character-based humor.
Jeffs, in tandem with Megan Holly, a first-time feature screenwriter, also ensures that universal themes emerge, including the role death plays in our lives and that there is dignity in all work. Mostly, though, it’s the filmmakers’ commitment to endowing their story with recognizable humanity that makes this sweet and modest indie triumph.
This is most evident in a poignant scene that takes place at the home of an elderly woman whose husband has just committed suicide. Rose and Norah arrive to find the traumatized widow in a state of shock. Recognizing the woman’s pain, Rose gently asks, “Mrs. Davis, would you like me to sit with you awhile?” The widow says yes. Rose takes her hand and sits with her in silence on the front porch, allowing her to eventually break down. This simple scene remains in our heads for the duration of the film, a reminder that compassion isn’t an impediment to Sunshine Cleaning’s success but an asset—a relevant thought for these troubled times.
A few elements hinder the impact of the film. There’s a backstory about the sisters’ mother that feels unnecessary and trite, especially with its pop psychology resolution. A subplot involving a kind, one-armed man who helps the sisters’ business and baby-sits Oscar hints at romance then abandons the idea without explanation.
No matter how one responds to this bittersweet morality tale, there’s no denying how vibrant Adams’ performance is and that her chemistry with Blunt is a source of joy. We’ve seen Adams’ skills in her many memorable roles throughout the years, including six for which she was nominated for an Oscar. So it’s no surprise that her Rose Lorkowski is a marvel of comic desperation, a quirky source of light in a dark world. It’s a difficult role to pull off, but like the plucky founder of Sunshine Cleaning, Adams gets the job done.