American independent cinema has produced a raft of comedies that have been shamefully ignored in recent years. The Daytrippers is a classic example.
Shot in 16 days on a pittance of a budget by first-time writer-director Greg Mottola, it's perhaps the film's rough-around-the-edges feel and the stripping down of New York to a lonely, unromantic kind of place which adds to its off-kilter charm and unlikely appeal.
That said, there's little to suggest early on that Mottola's intriguing road movie is going to turn out to be quite so enjoyable.

Confiding in her overbearing and insufferable mother (Anne Meara) the whole family, including Davis' dad Pat McNamara, sister Parker Posey and her boyfriend Liev Schreiber, soon bundle themselves into a station wagon and head for the Big Apple to confront Tucci.

There follows a viciously comic sequence of in-car bickering and big city mishaps as tracking down their man down proves more difficult than first expected. Not only do they draw a blank at book editor Tucci's office (he's mysteriously taken the day off), but they also have no luck when they stake out the apartment of his suspected mistress. Then Posey ends up flirting with another man at a book party Tucci is expected to attend.
As they continue to get nowhere fast, emotions and tensions inevitably escalate, so God only knows what possesses an unsuspecting resident to allow the dysfunctional brood to take over his apartment.
These spiralling relationship issues and neuroses form the core of Mottola's often hilarious but cleverly insightful movie, all of which takes place during the same day. It follows the premise that in a crisis, people often turn to their family for help, and Davis' family does indeed pitch in to lend a hand. But because they all see the situation from a completely different perspective, the eventful journey results in the cooped-up fivesome coming to terms with their own failings and learning the truth about themselves.
So by the time they finally catch up with Tucci, when the director springs a neatly crafted surprise, three separate stories about relationships have unfolded within the main relationship issue, namely Tucci cheating on his wife.
Featuring a clutch of excellent performances, the film, which was produced by Steven Soderbergh no less, is only 87 minutes long, but Mottola crams so much into its running time that barely a second is wasted, helping to create the overall feeling of claustrophobia which is generated throughout.
Special mention must also go to the spiky dialogue and lively humour which peppers the pathos, Schreiber's gradual unveiling of his novel about a man with the head of a dog always proving good for a laugh.
It's also refreshing to watch a movie which doesn't portray New York as being the most wonderful place on the planet.

David Lichtneker