The indignity and inconvenient mess of death; the way that our cherished hopes and loves emulsify, at the end of life, into an ominously sticky stain on a malodorous mattress — this is the unpalatable truth at the heart of the bittersweet black comedy Sunshine Cleaning. Given the subject matter and the sheer volume of putrefying human remains, it’s remarkable that the movie still bobs along on a seemingly unquenchable current of sentimental optimism.

Produced by the same company that made the indie smash hit Little Miss Sunshine, Sunshine Cleaning shares more than just a title word with its predecessor. Alan Arkin again appears in a supporting role. A grizzled, inappropriately forthright granddad who counsels an impressionable kid with his own unique world view, it’s virtually identical to his role in Little Miss Sunshine. But then Arkin is addictively watchable even when he is repeating himself a little.

The similarities run deeper than just the casting — both films share a dark, occasionally abrasive, sensibility that parts like rainclouds somewhere in the third act to reveal a heart-swelling message of family unity — notwithstanding a slightly dysfunctional family.

Amy Adams brings a bright, desperate smile and an air of bewildered disappointment to the role of Rose Lorkowski, formerly the cheerleading queen of her high school, invulnerable and entitled, now a thirtysomething single mum working as a maid. When her married lover, a cop, mentions in passing the big bucks to be earned cleaning up crime scenes, Rose gathers her errant sister Norah (Emily Blunt) and as much gumption as she can muster to start up in the biohazard mop-up business. The irony is not subtle: they tidy up the mess of other people’s lives but their own are smothered by chaos.

From the beginning, the difference between the sisters is clear. Norah scuffs her sneakers like a reluctant teenager, her face set in a disgusted “ew!” But the perky, professional Rose is more empathetic, aware that it is somebody’s dreams and the memories of their first kiss that are splattered all over the wall along with their brains. The added emotional complication for both girls is the long-buried trauma of the untimely death of their own mother.

Adams and Blunt are a sparky pairing, both perhaps a little too gorgeous to convince as the romantic no-hopers they are meant to be, but wholly persuasive as sisters carrying the scars of their own family tragedy. The screenwriter, Megan Holley, resorts to quirky tropes with some of the supporting oddballs but the sisters are carefully drawn, complex characters.

On the whole, it’s a well-judged piece of storytelling which balances its more sentimental tendencies with the gruesome nastiness of the sisters’ chosen profession. But there is one ill-conceived scene towards the end of the movie in which Rose has an imaginary conversation, via CB radio, with her dead mother. It’s a contrived piece of heart-wrenching that falls far short of the generally high quality of the rest of the script and leaves you feeling cheated by cheap manipulation.

15, 91mins

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