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The play’s the thing in suburban-shot ‘Ghostlight’

“Ghostlight” — 2.5 stars

“A madness most discreet/ A choking gall, and a preserving sweet” is how Shakespeare has Romeo describe the contradictory nature of love in the opening scene of “Romeo and Juliet.” Those words could describe the act of mourning as well, and, in an oblique way, they get to the heart of the theater, too — the comedies and tragedies we stage to cast light on the chaos of life.

“Ghostlight,” a sincere and somewhat over-tidy modern-day drama, explores all three — love, grief and the healing nature of playacting — and their effect on one heartland family. Made without stars, or much of a budget, but with a lot of heart and good vibes, it’s an exemplary and moving independent movie that was filmed in Waukegan, Highland Park, Deerfield and several other suburbs.

Evanston actor Keith Kupferer plays Dan, a burly Chicago-area construction worker who, when the movie opens, is at the end of his tether. He’s grown distant from his wife, Sharon (Tara Mallen), has had enough of his rebellious teenage daughter (Katherine Mallen Kupferer), and violently snaps when a rude driver gets in his face at a worksite. Clearly, something’s eating at the man, but what? Wonder on, till truth make all things plain.

Off-screen husband and wife Keith Kupferer and Tara Mallen play a couple on-screen in “Ghostlight,” a new film by Kelly O'Sullivan and Alex Thompson that premiered earlier this year at The Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Luke Dyra, IFC Films

Somewhat unbelievably, Dan is pulled in off the street by Rita (Dolly De Leon), an actress in an amateur storefront theatrical troupe that’s rehearsing “Romeo and Juliet” — the actor reading for the Friar hasn’t shown up, and they need a body. Somewhat unbelievably, Dan stays and, without telling his family or co-workers, comes back the following days until he’s a full-fledged member of the volunteer troupe. Kupferer conveys the character’s terse, bearlike resistance to it all — the Bard’s flowery speech, the feigned emotions — but he also gets Dan’s curiosity and, beneath that, a drive to express himself that no other outlet seems to serve. Like him, we have to take a lot on faith.

Real-life mother and daughter Tara Mallen and Katherine Mallen Kupferer star in “Ghostlight,” which was filmed in the suburbs. Courtesy of Luke Dyra, IFC Films

Without giving away too much, recent events in Dan’s past resonate with Shakespeare’s tale of star-crossed lovers, so much so that he finally rages against the entire notion of unhappy endings in a scene that’s most touching for the way the other members of the company instinctively gather around to comfort him. Never has anyone seemed more in need of hoary theatrical trust exercises than this decent, bottled-up man.

“Ghostlight” was written by actress Kelly O’Sullivan and directed by her and Alex Thompson; it has a pleasingly handmade feel that extends to the casting of a real-life husband, wife and daughter — actors all — in the central roles. After a few serious but amusing misapprehensions, Dan’s family is drawn into the production, and the overlap between life and art becomes overt, then anxious, and finally the source of emotional resolution. It’s fully felt, and also a little too pat, not least in the way the family’s trauma neatly matches some of what transpires onstage.

Keith Kupferer plays Dan and his real-life daughter, Katherine Mallen Kupferer, plays Dan's daughter Daisy in “Ghostlight.” Courtesy of Luke Dyra, IFC Films

De Leon played the cruise ship maid who becomes queen of the desert island in “Triangle of Sadness” (2022), and both she and her world-weary character here bring a touch of backstage professionalism to the proceedings. The other actors cast as members of the troupe have a lot of fun with the egos and petty dramas of amateur theatricals, and Lia Cubilete has a few stirring moments as a teenage girl reeling from the same tragedy that wrecked Dan’s family.

“Ghostlight” is a nice film, and sometimes a lovely one, about the therapy that can come with art and pretending, and its message is soothing enough to make one wish things always worked this way. As a reminder that sometimes they do, it’ll do. Like Mercutio’s fatal wound, the movie “’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but ’tis enough.”

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Rated R for strong language. 110 minutes.

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