Jennifer Aniston’s new role no ‘Cake’ walk

In "Cake," Jennifer Aniston plays a woman, laid low by pain and grief, who dips into her pool at night in a way that suggests she may not resurface.

When she does pop back up, she finds herself staring at a possum, and the symbolism raises the question.

Is this woman dead to the world, or merely playing dead?

Claire (Aniston) is not clear on this herself. A nasty accident has left her scarred and stricken with pain. She attends physical therapy only to qualify for ongoing narcotic prescriptions, ditto group talk therapy, from which Claire is expelled for applauding the suicide of a recently departed member (Anna Kendrick).

Wait, if Kendrick's character is dead, why is she played by Anna Kendrick?

Because she returns as a wisecracking ghost, appearing to the drug-addled, hallucinating Claire, who is contemplating her own suicide.

It's one of a few quirks in the screenplay that don't quite work, and there are a couple of choices by director Daniel Barnz — like hiring William H. Macy for one scene — that distract as well.

What does work is the unexpectedly touching love story that develops between Claire and her housekeeper, Silvana, played by Adriana Barraza, so good in a similar role in "Babel."

Claire (with caustic sarcasm) alienates those close to her (including ex Chris Messina), but Silvana will not be repelled. She is moved by faith and perhaps just plain decency to make Claire's recovery a near-sacred priority.

Whoa, you say — privileged, self-involved white lady rescued by a noble minority? Well the movie is one step ahead of you, and shrewdly has Silvana's daughter denounce Claire's race/class privilege in act one. And Silvana herself is given plenty of room to express her frustration with Claire's obstinance.

What wins you over is the way Barazza suggests the past that's transpired between the women, and the way both actresses navigate map out the territory of money and class and friendship, which becomes a subject of the movie.

Of Aniston, the highest praise you can offer is to say you forget you're watching her. You even forget the fake scars and stringy hair and showy down-market stunt the movie is pulling. You buy her as a woman so undone by grief, she doesn't know how to behave or where to turn.

That the "We're the Millers" and "Horrible Bosses" star shows such ease with the material seems to confirm the cliche — tragedy is easy. Comedy is hard.

Online: ph.ly/Movies