I admire Nicole Holofcener’s consistency. I don’t mean that every one of her efforts is uniformly strong, nor does she tread the same ground the same time out. Instead, Holofcener operates with a certainty of vision, a commitment to using her time with a camera and, subsequently, an audience’s attention to say something, to issue a statement about what it feels like to be living in this time. She’s not aspiring to grand statements or perception-shattering shocks. She simply digs into the mundane struggles of daily existence, the wounding indignities that people bring upon themselves and the fumbling grasps for something, anything that provide a respite, however brief, from whatever unending challenges they face. In Holofcener’s pointed films everything is a blessing and a curse, often depending on the ever-shifting context of the moment.

The new film, Please Give, is her fourth, and it feels like the natural next step on a trek that began with Walking and Talking almost fifteen years ago. That film was about the stretch when youthfulness and the freedom that comes with it starts to erode away, exposing the responsibility of adulthood. Every subsequent film has been a progression. As her characters have become more successful, different concerns have crept in. In this instance, guilt is a common feeling, whether it be inspired by a dwindling older relative who needs care and attention or personal financial success that leads to awkward attempts at charitable endeavors. What really unites the characters, though, is a gnawing sense of emptiness and the uncertain attempts they make at filling their inner voids. Worse yet, Holofcener’s final assessment seems to be that all these attempts are futile. Contentment is fleeting. This is dire, dour stuff, but it’s to Holofcener’s credit that it doesn’t play that way. Instead the film is funny, even charming at times, in large part because the comedy isn’t wrung out of nihilistic pessimism. It comes from an empathetic few of human foibles.

That march through life that’s the defining characteristic of Holofcener’s work makes it tempting to view her collected films as an ongoing biography, especially since Catherine Keener is always present, seemingly in the role most likely to represent the director. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean the films degenerate into myopic navel gazing. Please Give is a particularly strong example of Holofcener’s adeptness at creating multiple characters, all of whom have distinct voices, a trickier task than it seems. With blessedly little reliance on the shortcut of filling the characters with fussy quirks, Holofcener builds believable people and works with her cast to see them finely realized. Sometimes that can be as simple (and arguably simplistic) as coming up with the world’s nicest old lady and the world’s meanest old lady, plopping them together in the back seat of the care and letting the conflict naturally emerge. More often, it’s about giving the characters unique nuance, insight, situational wisdom. It may not be flashy, but it does represent good writing, which is the first, arguably most vital step to fine filmmaking.