David O. Russell continues establishing himself as a top name in mainstream prestige fare with Joy, albeit in a different direction compared to his last three features. The Fighter, Silver Linings Playbook and American Hustle showed off Russell’s strengths when it came to working with ensembles, whereas Joy prefers to keep its focus on one character. That means a more streamlined narrative compared to, say, American Hustle, although Russell’s own formula since his career’s resurgence is still here, even if it doesn’t cast as wide of a net. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Joy is a rather simple and entertaining film, a biopic of sorts that works best when seen as a strange, unique and slightly true success story.

In a clear case of not fixing what isn’t broken, Russell works with Jennifer Lawrence yet again in her biggest role for him to date. Inspired by the true story of Joy Mangano, inventor of the Miracle Mop and other successful household items, the film starts with Joy (Lawrence) bearing the burden of her needy family. Joy’s mother Terry (Virginia Madsen) stays in bed all day watching soap operas, and her ex-husband Tony (Edgar Ramirez) lives in the basement. Joy’s grandmother Mimi (Diane Ladd) takes care of Joy and Tony’s two children while she works whatever jobs she can to pay the bills, including helping out the business run by her father Rudy (Robert De Niro) and half-sister Peggy (Elisabeth Rohm). On top of all this, Joy can’t shake her own disappointment in not pursuing her dreams of inventing.

It’s only when Rudy starts dating the wealthy Trudy (Isabella Rossellini) that Joy seizes on the opportunity to see her idea of the Miracle Mop through. It’s in this early section of the film that Russell leans on the familial elements that made The Fighter and Silver Linings Playbook so successful. Joy’s family oscillates between being a support and a weight for her, with their individual idiosyncrasies either providing a funny narrative detour or an obstacle to Joy achieving her goals. Russell sometimes likes to start a new scene with only Joy before bringing in her family to overpower the proceedings (at one point Russell frames a meeting between Joy and Trudy as a one-on-one before revealing her friends and family surrounding them in the same room). Russell never goes so far as to paint Joy’s immediate family as villains in the story, understanding the complexities of blood relations. For instance: when Joy complains about needing a good sleep, her family’s response is to feed her a bottle of children’s cough syrup while she lays down on the stairs. They’re not malicious people so much as their best intentions do more harm than good.

The specificity of Joy’s family and experiences goes a long way to helping Russell establish that Joy should not be taken as some sort of symbol for the American dream in action. At first blush, Mangano’s tale does come across as an ideal example of working hard to make one’s own success, but in this film’s reality (Russell embellishes a lot of facts, and not enough is publicly known about Mangano to know just how accurate some of the film’s events are) it’s too bizarre and specific to be taken that way. It’s only when Joy winds up at QVC that a station executive (Bradley Cooper, acting like Russell called him in as a favour to take advantage of his and Lawrence’s on-screen chemistry) starts hammering home the virtues of America as a land of opportunity. The fact that these themes get delivered around artificial sets within giant, empty spaces is probably not a coincidence.

If anything, Russell’s film is more of a celebration of individual resolve. Joy faces constant rejection over her ideas, but she never doubts her own instincts about her mop having the potential to be successful. Russell’s script vindicates Joy through a simple and clever move: the narrative always advances because of a decision Joy makes on her own. Her decision to use Trudy as an investor gets the mop made, her decision to go on TV to sell the Miracle Mop herself gets people to buy it in record numbers, and in the film’s anticlimactic final act—an attempt at a climactic confrontation that fizzles out as quickly as it’s introduced—Joy’s acting entirely on her own. Still, watching Lawrence (who turns in another great performance, although her youth gets the best of her in a clunky flash forward) seize control of her dreams from the hands of those trying to pilfer off of them is fun to watch, and Russell’s unwavering commitment to highlighting her self-earned achievements make it all the more effective.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with breezy, lighthearted entertainment. In the right hands, a small-scale story populated by sympathetic faces has the capacity to deliver big-time charm. Of course, the issue comes in when an airy aesthetic is all a film has to offer; a quirky lead and thin plot strands substituting for real personality and substance. I Dream Too Much suffers from such faults. Its total lack of energy and tired attempts at fleshing out the skeleton of a familiar tale with half-baked themes of self-empowerment results in a lifeless experience that evaporates as soon as the curtain falls.

Our protagonist is eccentric twenty-something Dora (Eden Brolin). She is the one who “dreams too much.” Pressured by her mother (Christina Rouner) to take the LSAT and become a prosperous lawyer, she languishes in the wintry New Jersey suburbs, obsessively fantasizing about fabulous, far away places and the excitement they’d surely bring. Upon hearing of her Great Aunt Vera’s (Diane Ladd) foot injury, she volunteers to help, only to find a stubborn, tough-to-please diva in an unbearably quiet town. Through dull housework, spontaneous storytelling and martini-drenched evenings, the relationship is hot and cold, but Dora finds an outlet in her frustrated poetic scribblings, romantic daydreams and the laughs shared with a new, like-aged friend (Danielle Brooks). The discovery of Vera’s glamorous past reinvigorates the bond between Great Aunt and Great Niece, and the two begin working together in an effort to get past their personal and poetic muddles.

For a film so lighthearted, it’s surprising that I Dream Too Much is as lifeless as it is. The direction by first-time helmer Katie Cokinos is really what’s to blame. Most scenes have an uncomfortably dead air about them as characters stand around awkwardly listening to each other speak, their fake half-smiles and darting eyes straining for an ounce of guidance. Additionally, there’s an absence of effective blocking to provide some relief from the stagey dialogue (which is frequently derailed by Dora’s trivial squeaky-voiced ramblings).

Cokinos (who also wrote the film) attempts to inject some vitality into the events in different ways, but she is rarely successful. While functioning in part as a drama, it’s the comedy that has the greatest presence, and it hardly ever works. Weak sort-of-punch-lines paired with sub-par acting create what often feels like a cringe-worthy sitcom without the laugh track. What ensues are fruitless games of spot-the-joke.

Also hoping to start a heartbeat of some kind is a series of transitional interludes. These are the only times when the smiley, guitar-strumming soundtrack appears, and while the sequences are probably the movie’s most visually engaging moments, I cannot reconcile the notion that they don’t do anything but establish setting and give the false impression of an emotional landscape taking shape.

Diane Ladd is perhaps the film’s only saving grace. Although she occasionally stoops to slight overacting, her performance is the kind of assured turn that only an experienced vet like herself could give. Ladd’s comedic timing is great and she fully sells the character of this sardonic, swaggering old woman harboring hidden insecurities.

Unfortunately, a single solid performance is not capable of elevating the film beyond its larger problems. As previously stated, I Dream Too Much is excessively light, but not in a purely stylistic sense. It busies itself with several plot elements and fails to give the proper attention to any of them. One conveniently presented subplot deals with a famous local music producer (James McCaffrey) and another has to do with Vera’s old journals. Meanwhile, Dora’s 19^th century gothic novel-inspired daydreams come and go with little impact and a dramatic device regarding her dead father lingers in the background. Each of these components is shallowly addressed and whatever conflict arises is generally resolved with improbable rapidity. Voice-over narration and cutaways to Dora’s handwritten couplets struggle to express complex coming-of-age dilemmas and when a film can’t even engage you on a conceptual level, let alone a story level, the only thing that resonates by the end is a feeling of emptiness.

I hate to rag on a film of such innocent intentions, but I Dream Too Much forces my hand. It ventures to evoke a few laughs while telling a story about taking responsibility and living on your own terms. These are noble messages to send, for sure, but oblivious direction and careless writing ruins it. Like its main character, film has its head firmly stuck in the clouds. Do yourself a favor and remain earthbound on this one.