Though the Happy Death Day series would probably be a hit for its concept alone, what makes both films work so well is Jessica Rothe’s performance. In the first film, she made audiences root for Tree despite her brattiness and in the sequel (which hits home video today), she convincingly brought Tree on an arc of both romance and grief. Now, in Tater Tot & Patton, which also hits VOD today, she channels that star power into something a little more downbeat but equally rewarding.
Rothe plays Andie, a Los Angeles girl who decides to go to her aunt and uncle’s South Dakota cattle ranch to detox instead of rehab. However, when she arrives, Andie finds that her Aunt Tilly (Kathy Askew) is in the hospital and she is left to work the ranch with her beer-drinking and beer-bellied Uncle Erwin (Bates Wilder). Though they haven’t seen each other since Andie was 4, their antagonism is especially potent in those early scenes.
Much of that unpleasantness centers around food. When Erwin makes dinner that first night, he simply chops up a couple of hot dogs and throws them in a can of beans. Andie is on a “veggie kick” and declines, but by the next day, when Erwin does the same thing and she refuses to eat them, things become hostile. From there, both characters passive-aggressively refuse to yield and watching their childish behavior, it’s hard to understand why they’re both being so awful to each other or even how they decided on this arrangement in the first place.
Though writer-director Andrew Kightlinger eventually makes the root of their hostility clear, it can be tough to power through those early interactions. Thankfully, Rothe’s performance and the filmmaking are enough to keep you engaged until Andie and Erwin soften. Cinematographer Per places the characters in one beautiful South Dakotan vista after another, making it look as if the plains are always bathed in cloud-dappled magic hour light.
As for Rothe, she’s far more subdued here than in the Death Day franchise, but her appeal is undeniable. Andie may become insulting after Erwin smashes her phone in retaliation for not doing a chore, but there’s a wounded quality beneath all that nastiness that makes it easy to understand why Erwin gives in, buys her ingredients for grilled cheese and gently ribs her when she burns them.
Though Rothe will be the draw for many, it’s the work she and Wilder do together that eventually gets the viewer to invest in their characters’ relationship. There is a compelling odd couple vibe between the actors and while Erwin spends so much of the movie drunk on beer and almost nonverbal, there’s also a softness to Wilder’s performance that makes it seem like his hostility is a front too.
When the film finally reveals Andie and Erwin’s individual traumas, it’s clear that both have been in self-defense mode the whole time. While it would be unfair to reveal the details of their sadness, the suddenness and improbability of one in particular nearly derails the subtle, gentle tone of the rest of the film. Much of the strength in Kightlinger’s script comes from the way the story hits certain expected beats without overplaying them. So, it’s jarring when one of the big reveals requires so much suspension of disbelief that it feels like forced drama more in service of Kightlinger’s point about overcoming sadness than a realistic plot point.
Still, despite a labored moment or two in the writing, Tater Tot & Patton is a thoughtful, melancholy movie about grief. Its pacing can be slow and circumspect, but it’s got beautiful images and a set of excellent central performances. Many viewers will undoubtedly wish for a few more narrative fireworks, but by foregrounding the slow-build affection and companionship between Andie and Erwin, Kightlinger emphasizes how they help each other escape the slow crush of their sadness. It may not be as fun as watching Rothe die over and over, but its emotion is hard to shake.
