It can be argued, to varying levels of persuasiveness, that we live in the most peaceful time on Earth. So, why does immense sadness still pervade? Sure, many of us haven’t experienced the epic, generational forms of suffering that come with war and genocide, or the types of hardships and challenges that define migrating to a country that doesn’t speak the same language. But does that mean we’re any less entitled to our feelings? Like its namesake, Jesse Eisenberg’s A Real Pain masterfully and delicately reconciles that classic sense of pain with our modern malaise, beautifully rambling its way through heartfelt observations on the legacy and validity of pain.

The buddy tragicomedy follows two cousins (who are “basically brothers”), David (Eisenberg) and Benji (Kieran Culkin), who travel to Poland, taking part in a heritage tour to learn how the Holocaust impacted the region before visiting the home their grandmother fled from. Her recent passing has left Benji in an emotional stupor and in desperate need to spend time with a cousin that he’s drifted from. However, the two couldn’t be any more different—Benji wears the rawest emotions on his sleeve, often flinging hilarious quips like “money is like heroin to boring people,” while David is far more reserved and traditional.

Their tumultuous dichotomy – in which both men want to be each other – sits at the heart of A Real Pain, but the real magic lies in how Eisenberg’s script illustrates the impossibility of that desire. That all-important truth is brought to life by the two magnetic lead performances. Eisenberg plays well within his wheelhouse, conjuring the similar type of jittery, insecure character he’s known for, but does so with such vulnerability we can’t help but see ourselves within him. At first, Culkin appears to be doing the same, with Benji feeling like an extension of his filter-less, fast-talking character in Succession, but he draws on such pathos and relatability with his register and body language that we believe every decision he makes.

A Real Pain could have so easily fallen prey to overly sentimental and mawkish choices, but remains delightfully authentic, never wanting us to pity its characters but instead render them instruments to help us dig inward. Eisenberg’s purposeful and unadorned direction makes Poland, and its various cities, breathe. His lens remains confident and controlled in such a talkative film, understanding how and when to make the silence speak loudly. At one moment, A Real Pain is a hysterical knee-slapper, and the next it’s profoundly sad, reminding us that markedly different experiences, both in the haunting past and the fleeting present, do not render our pain any less valuable. In a sense, it’s all real.

A Real Pain is in theatres on November 8