“It’s OK to laugh, or cry, there’s no correct response,” Jane Fonda’s celebrity shrink counsels her kids a couple of times in this belligerently bittersweet family saga. The audience may not need such steerage. It’s true: you don’t know whether to laugh or cry, but you’re unlikely to be tempted to either. This is Where I Leave You is totally aimble, utterly unmoving filler given a major shot in the arm by its cast, people it’s simply a pleasure to watch, even with the creeping feeling they’re better than this.

Adapted from his own novel by Jonathan Trotter, who writes suburban soaps that are one part Franzen to five parts Hornby, it follows almost the same template as festival opener The Judge (without the homicide). A divorcing man in his mid 40s returns to his small hometown after the death of a parent, beds down in the scuzzy spare room filled with memories, and slowly but surely reconciles himself to the surviving parent, plus siblings, plus long-lost love, plus wholesome parochialism of the lives of normal folks.

This is Where I Leave has a serious advantage over the Judge: it stars not Robert Downey Jr but Jason Bateman, whose smart alec hangdog act still contains enough actual smarts to pull you through. He’s an absolute master of the lazy-eyed reaction shot, of casually attracting empathy without being especially dynamic, of making corn convincing. This is a man who’s never been anything less than terrific, in – by and large - less than terrific movies.

Anyway, Bateman is a former radio producer in the process of splitting up with his wife after walking in on her in bed with his boss. “Well that’ll do it”, comments someone, in the sort of sass-tastic dialogue peppered through the film. The woman is Rose Byrne (playing Bateman’s one who got away, despite 10 year age gap), who, with this and Bridesmaids and Bad Neighbours, has become one of most unassumingly funny, pleasingly non-quirky female comedy turns around. Adam Driver, too, is making a quantity not quality approach to his career work, for he’s somehow as terrific in this as he was in the legitimately brilliant While We’re Young, endlessly freshening pat lines with perky readings.

There’s two more siblings: Tina Fey, who does not fare terribly well with the crushing pathos here, though acting opposite Timothy Olyphant’s lightly brain-damaged sports shop assistant (her character’s one who got away) does present quite a challenge. And Corey Stolz, doing long-suffering stuff in a thankless role as the boring brother undergoing fertility treatment with wife Kathryn Hahn. Cue dialogue like: “Shove a baby up there” during sex and acting incredibly stressed the whole time (though presumably their problems can’t be so very pressing if they’re still trying to concieve naturally).

With some overhaul, this could have been great. But the conceit, coupled with signposting soundtrack and editing that serves to highlight the trite rather than give this talented ensemble some space, makes it just adequate. “Stop acting like crazy people!” yells Fey at one point. Of all the lines, it rings the truest.