Krasinski and Rudolph have nothing to play. They are a stand-in for the audience in the same way that Styrofoam peanuts protect the contents of your package; lifeless, breakable, malleable, and totally unrelated to what they are assigned to protect.
Although Away We Go doesn't sum to the icon of loveliness that the filmmakers might have hoped for - it is too tonally fractured - the movie does suggest avenues that Sam Mendes might consider exploring in the future.
Too much information bedrooms, and vibes that may encourage skipping parenthood altogether for those who haven't quite made up their minds yet. And a pro-isolationist impression that the grass is always greener on one's own side of the picket fence.
The movie almost works as a cautionary tale about global overpopulation by imbecile parents, but even that would be a bridge too far for this pathetic navel rub that comes with the same sense of entitlement that it pretends to skewer.