Family Therapy is a comedy whose destination becomes obvious almost immediately. The premise promises energy and charm, but the film extracts remarkably little from it.
Christian Clavier plays controlling psychoanalyst Olivier Béranger. His daughter Alice brings her new boyfriend Damien home, and Olivier discovers that the man is a former patient. The supposed complications mostly produce flat jokes and predictable attempts to reuse Clavier's irritated-father routine.
Clavier still has timing and that familiar aggrieved look over his glasses. The role simply gives him too little to work with. Olivier's hostility is never made sufficiently understandable, leaving offended grumbling where an emotional conflict should be.
Baptiste Lecaplain's Damien is an amiable fool without much individuality. Claire Chust is similarly wasted as Alice, although she should be the emotional center between father and boyfriend.
The film treats shouting as if it could turn every misunderstanding into a joke. Wit, surprise and distinctive moments are scarce. Scenes repeatedly circle the same material, often in Olivier's living room.
Arnaud Lemort's writing and direction seem designed to give Clavier room to play the excitable patriarch. That cannot carry a film when everything surrounding him feels lifeless. The jokes seldom land, and the finale is easy to anticipate.
Not a catastrophe, but not a successful comedy either. Playing safe becomes the very thing that makes it dull. I would not feel that I had missed much by skipping it.