‘Therapy Done Right’ San Sebastian Review: Ricardo Darín Gets Dangerously Close to His Patient

A lighthearted, Hitchcockian-tinged entertainment, Therapy Done Right works as a suspense comedy or, more accurately, a breezy thriller with a literary bent about the complicated relationship between a therapist and a writer in crisis. The latest film from the director of Thesis on a Homicide, which premieres at the San Sebastian Film Festival as part of a tribute to Ricardo Darín and hit Netflix on October 16, is an amiable, perhaps somewhat minor proposition (both in conception and execution) that will likely find its natural home on the platform.

The basic premise of Lo dejamos acá has something in common with the recent series Shrinking, although its tone and format also bring to mind Damián Szifron’s The Pretenders (Los Simuladores). Ricardo Darín plays Ulises Verón, a famous psychologist who, while attending an awards ceremony honoring his career, turns down the prize after declaring himself fed up with what he calls the lies and failures of his profession. In his practice —which he combines with appearances on a TV show hosted by Andrea Politti— Ulises has little use for conventional therapeutic techniques. Instead, he takes matters into his own hands, not merely offering behavioral-style advice but actively involving himself in his patients’ lives in an attempt to solve their problems in a direct and hands-on way. Or at least that’s how he sees it.

The arrival of Martín Bouchard (Diego Peretti), a famous and somewhat pompous writer who comes to see him, presents Ulises with a particularly tricky problem. During their first session, Bouchard admits that he can’t write without drinking too much, and that his alcohol consumption is beginning to cause serious problems in his life. After some hesitation, Verón decides to fix the problem for him. The only trouble is that his idea of how to go about it is, to put it mildly, questionable. Therapy Done Right is primarily interested in the strange relationship that develops between the two men, much of it taking place in Bouchard’s luxurious home, since Verón has a habit of making house calls. Here, however, he takes that practice a little too far.

Goldfrid’s film revolves around the shifting dynamics of this increasingly tense relationship, using a very specific plan devised by the psychologist as its narrative engine. Supposedly, the idea is to help his patient overcome both his writer’s block and his dependence on alcohol. But things don’t go according to plan, and the therapeutic relationship soon turns into an ego battle more at home in a mystery or suspense story.

In between these encounters, Ulises also has to deal —or, more accurately, tries not to deal— with his daughter Paula (Antonia Bengoechea, Darín’s niece in real life), a level-headed young woman who works with him but whom he continually manages to avoid. There are also a handful of other patients whose stories add some color to the plot, particularly one played by Inés Efron, although most of them eventually vanish without leaving much of a trace.

Therapy Done Right is structured as a suspense story with humorous touches, and is held together largely by the on-screen tension between two major figures of Argentine cinema, Darín and Peretti. Indeed, the film is built around their encounters, gradually developing its plot through the mix of camaraderie and discomfort generated by these supposedly unconventional therapy sessions. Emanuel Diez’s screenplay doesn’t dig particularly deep into either character, presenting them mainly as two frustrated men dissatisfied with their respective professions who find themselves drawn into a strange, simmering battle.

The film saves a series of surprise twists for the finale, brings in a well-known guest actor and throws in a few amusing observations about literature, cinema and even television, though it never pushes any of these ideas very far. In fact, the way certain subplots and motivations appear and disappear with little warning occasionally makes it feel as if some scenes were left on the cutting-room floor. Still, Lo dejamos acá is clearly trying to revive the spirit of the classic suspense comedy —the score leans heavily into a retro sensibility— with a touch of Woody Allen thrown into the mix. And every now and then, it gets where it wants to go: back to some of that old Hollywood movie magic.