The Intern

I watched The Intern while wearing a pair of sweatpants that have a hole in the left pocket and a mysterious bleach stain on the thigh, and seeing Robert De Niro’s perfectly tailored suits made me feel like a failed experiment in evolution. There is a specific kind of "lifestyle envy" that only a Nancy Meyers movie can provide. It’s a world where every kitchen island is the size of a continent, every problem can be solved with a glass of expensive Sauvignon Blanc, and even the "struggling" startup offices look like they smell exclusively of sandalwood and ambition.

But beneath the high-thread-count aesthetic, I found a movie that is surprisingly sturdy. Released in 2015, right at the peak of the "Girlboss" era and the rise of the Silicon Valley hustle culture, The Intern feels like a time capsule of a very specific cultural moment. It’s a comedy that trades in warmth rather than snark, which, in our current era of cynical meta-humor, feels almost radical.

The Gentleman in the Cube

The film follows Ben Whittaker (Robert De Niro), a 70-year-old widower who is bored out of his mind by retirement. He applies for a "senior intern" program at About the Fit, an e-commerce fashion site founded by Jules Ostin (Anne Hathaway). The setup is classic fish-out-of-water stuff, but Meyers avoids the easy "old person doesn't know how to use a mouse" gags. Instead, Ben is the most competent person in the room. He’s the anchor in Jules' chaotic, fast-paced life.

What struck me most about Robert De Niro here is how much he does with so little. We’re used to seeing him play terrifying mobsters or over-the-top caricatures in the Meet the Parents sequels, but here he is remarkably restrained. He uses his face like a silent film star—a slight tilt of the head or a gentle crinkle of the eyes conveys decades of wisdom. The movie treats a man carrying a handkerchief like he’s discovered cold fusion, and honestly, De Niro sells it. He makes the "old school" masculinity feel aspirational rather than regressive.

Anne Hathaway has the harder job. Jules is a character that could easily have been a "Devil Wears Prada" retread, but Hathaway gives her a jittery, vulnerable edge. She’s a woman trying to scale a massive company while the world—and her own board of directors—waits for her to fail. Their chemistry isn't romantic; it’s a rare, genuine platonic mentorship that I found genuinely moving.

The $194 Million Kitchen Aesthetic

It’s impossible to talk about The Intern without talking about the "Nancy Meyers of it all." This film was a massive commercial success, raking in over $194 million on a $35 million budget. That’s a staggering number for a mid-budget comedy-drama that doesn't involve a superhero or a haunted doll. It proved that there was—and still is—a massive audience for "adult" movies that prioritize production design and human relationships over explosions.

Apparently, Meyers is so meticulous about her sets that she personally curates the items in the background cabinets. That obsessiveness pays off. The film’s Brooklyn brownstone and open-plan office aren't just locations; they’re aspirational characters. It’s a blockbuster of the domestic sphere. Interestingly, the film became a literal phenomenon in South Korea, where the "Kondae" (a term for a condescending older person) is a major social issue. Ben Whittaker became the "ideal elder" for a generation of young Koreans, proving that the film’s appeal crossed significant cultural boundaries.

The comedy is hit-or-miss, depending on what you find funny. There is a heist sequence involving a deleted email that feels like it belongs in a different, broader movie, but the verbal sparring between Ben and the younger interns (Andrew Rannells and Adam DeVine) lands more often than it doesn't. The movie thinks the biggest threat to modern society isn't climate change, but the fact that young men have stopped tucking in their shirts, and while that’s a bit "get off my lawn," it’s delivered with such charm that I didn't mind the lecture.

Does the Gentility Still Work?

Looking at The Intern through a 2024 lens, some of it feels a bit dated. The subplot involving Jules’ husband, Matt (Anders Holm), and his struggles as a stay-at-home dad, feels a little undercooked and safe. The film raises big questions about the cost of female success and the fragility of modern marriages, then mostly retreats into a warm hug and a montage.

However, in an era where streaming platforms are cluttered with high-concept sci-fi and gritty true crime, there is something deeply soothing about the "Meyers-core" experience. It’s a film that believes people are generally good, that experience matters, and that a well-organized desk can fix a broken soul. It doesn't push the medium forward, but it occupies its space with such grace and professionalism that it’s hard to stay cynical. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a high-end cashmere sweater—expensive, perhaps a bit precious, but undeniably comfortable.

The Intern is a polished, big-hearted comedy that succeeds because it respects its characters as much as its audience. It’s a testament to the power of the mid-budget studio film, anchored by two lead performances that remind us why movie stars exist. While it might be a bit too sugary for those who prefer their cinema with a side of grit, I found it to be a delightful reminder that sometimes, the most revolutionary thing a movie can be is kind. It’s the perfect Sunday afternoon watch, preferably with a glass of wine and a very clean kitchen.