Jenny Slate is close to heroic in a performance that, well, outshines the rest of The Sunlit Night, an oddball drama-comedy that never pulls together its exotic ingredients into the grand statement it wants to be. Slate plays Frances, a painter with ambition but little to say on canvas. When her parents break up, she finds herself living in a tiny space with her father (/David Paymer) and desperate to get out of her ever-narrowing life. She takes a job in the wilds of Norway, where a community of eccentrics and expatriates includes Nils (Fridtjov Saheim), a brusque artist who is trying hard to win a grant by painting a dilapidated barn a mostly bright yellow, inside and out. He hires Frances to paint the interior over a period of weeks, and treats her like an indentured servant, making her stay in a cramped trailer with a baby goat.
Whatever time of year this is all taking place, there is endless, round-the-clock sunlight that makes it hard to sleep. But Frances perseveres, finding a willing subject to pose for a nude painting and forming an attachment with Yasha (Alex Sharp), ayoung man grieving the death of his father. Adapting her source novel for the film's screenplay, Rebecca Dinerstein and director David Wnendt hammer a lot of stakes into a broad field, figuratively speaking, and have a good time filling their tent with offbeat goodies like a troupe of ancient Nordic warfare enthusiasts led by a clueless American (Zach Galifianakis). The landscape itself, with endless fields, forests, a sea in the distance, and a highway slicing through the emptiness of it all, is a nice metaphor for the void in Frances' pilgrim soul.
Yet The Sunlit Night fails to close the deal after doing a lot of legwork. It can't seem to make all this stuff gel into a womb in which Frances can grow and struggle her way out to a better version of herself. There are so many balls in the air, no one can keep track. Gillian Anderson, for example, turns up in a completely undeveloped role as a foreign widow of the deceased dad. Ironically, the film's best movement isn't even in Norway and doesn't place Frances at the scene's center. That honor goes to Paymer, in a heartbreaking sequence when his character nearly transcends his self-involved nature while toasting Frances' sister at the latter's wedding. Despite the big picture disappointment of The Sunlit Night, Slate's quiet, dogged take on her rudderless character is strong stuff, easily her best work yet in a movie. Lightly recommended.