To save you two hours of your life, if you can’t watch a film with just one main human character, then you can probably pass on Tom Hanks’ Finch. But if you‘re a fan of his hit survival film Cast Away, and you also love dogs, then you’re in luck.
Finch doesn’t seem like much, which is exactly what makes it refreshing and even slightly nostalgic.
It’s easy to guess what’s going on at the start of the film: some kind of an apocalyptic event shrouded the earth, leaving only an intelligent engineer to survive with a smart, cute dog. Finch (Hanks) is slowly dying from radiation poisoning because the sky is “like swiss cheese:” the ozone layer has holes in it. And every time any living being is in the sunlight for a split second, they will fry. So, Finch creates a robot (later named Jeff) to take care of his dog when he dies.
The movie opens and ends with “Miss American Pie“—an ideal ode for the protagonist. When we first hear the song, we can’t help but laugh a little at how Finch sings to himself as he walks through the dust storm-attacked, barren wasteland that is now St. Louis. But the song choice ends up with a double meaning by the end, going from lighthearted and funny to a punch-in-the-gut farewell. How could you not tear up hearing a puppy wail as their owner dies?
But aside from that one song, Finch has little comical moments that quickly become suppressed whenever the character gets frustrated with his new creation. It’s adorable when Jeff innocently asks Finch “May I ask you a question?” or when he constantly apologizes. But that sweetness immediately sours when Finch snaps at him in frustration as he runs out of time.
This snappiness is precisely what carries the film. You don’t know how you can blame the dying dude for getting angry at a contraption that was born yesterday. But at the same time, your heart will break for Jeff because all he (or “it,” if you really don’t want to identify him as a person/robot) is doing is learning from his inventor, and is trying to develop a companionship with him. And we all can understand that. After all, how would you feel if your only trusted comrade said you’re just a “machine“ to them, something only for their use? Finch, therefore, awakens the human in us when looking at a robot. The movie also forces us to reckon with Jeff. And Jeff doesn't show has any emotions. His silent or one-word reactions to Finch's frustration are enough to sway us. Subtlety is key.
Like other minimalist films such as The Guilty, the audience has to make more of an effort to get to know their protagonist. We're not given much of a backstory about Finch. The only information we get is later into the movie when Finch has to verbally throttle Jeff into understanding their reality. Here is where the complaints arose. Critics think the movie is boring and hard to follow against a decent backdrop of special effects with sandstorms and tornadoes.
But let's defend Finch for a second. With satisfactory CGI and a strong actor, the film has about three suspenseful moments—one even involves other human beings that we don't get to see. Sometimes, when the curtain isn't pulled back to the full extent, the spotlight focuses on less. Take Cast Away, for example. Another Hanks masterpiece, two-thirds of the movie is just Hanks on an island. So, why was it loved so much?
For starters, Cast Away came out in a time when audiences were used to Hollywood's formula: a big cast, a couple of action-packed and/or dramatic scenes, and a climax of revelations or lessons learned. Cast Away doesn't follow that. Instead, it encourages us to understand why one guy befriends a volleyball for four years while separated from the love of his life. Finch is similar. The only main difference is that our main character doesn't reveal a romance, and the era is different; Jeff is like Wilson, the volleyball, except Jeff is a high-tech, functioning robot.
Moral of this review—if you can't sit through something with a limited cast, slight spikes in action, and a simple story, Finch isn't for you. If you want to kick back and watch future earth get scorched (to be expected) and what a lone survivor does about it, then give it a chance. It's not Oscar-worthy, but it's Sundance, Cannes, and other small festivals-worthy. Simplicity can go a long way, and the film industry is starting to steer toward that moviemaking technique. Maybe we just need to adjust to it.