Recently discharged from a hospital for psychiatric patients, 40-year-old Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller) is ‘trying to do nothing for a while’. Spoiler alert: he succeeds—so spectacularly, in fact, that the whole film winds up following suit, and the end result is 107 minutes of nothing. And not the good Seinfeld variety—just regular old, unsatisfying nothing.
For a director with so many critically acclaimed notches in his megaphone (The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, The Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Squid and the Whale) Greenberg feels like a rookie mistake for Noah Baumbach—‘green’ is right.
Broadly speaking, there are two types of films—character driven and plot driven (or a balanced combination of the two.) One end of the spectrum can generally compensate for the other—if your characters aren’t interesting or well-developed, just make sure your plot is dynamite. If your plot meanders and goes nowhere, just ensure there are fascinating characters along for the ride.
Well, Greenberg’s plot is barely discernible: overly neurotic, self-analytical man house-sits for his brother. Which means the bulk of our cinema-going expectations fall on Roger’s character to bear. Unfortunately, his character is unlikable in every way—selfish, cynical, petty and utterly unrelatable, Roger offers no reason for us to want to spend any more than a few moments with him.
Having made his ‘nothing’ declaration, he spends his days writing stupidly specific complaint letters to restaurants and airlines; however, even these ‘edgy’, cynical diatribes about modern culture fall completely flat—they lack any of the pinpointed truth or acidity that usually make these soapbox moments so memorable.
When not penning trite tripe, he’s becoming reacquainted with old college bandmate Ivan (Rhys Ifans) and romancing (or nomancing, rather) his brother’s personal assistant Florence (newcomer Greta Gerwig). However, the only characters more unsympathetic than Roger are these two—simply for the limitless tolerance they have for his company.
I understand suspension of disbelief is a requirement to enjoying many aspects of films, but the Golden Gate bridge couldn’t suspend my disbelief that anyone would become intimately involved with Roger.
Dry quips are strewn about, earning a smile here and there, but they’re too sparse to solidify any sense of attachment with the cast. In an uncomfortable way, Greenberg seems to almost avoid engaging with substantial meaning or humanity at all—and the inconclusive ending sees nobody really having changed.
It’s a pleasant film to look at, but a pain to watch—and the most painful part of the whole sordid affair is that Stiller is brilliant in it. Unfortunately, he’s poured his remarkable talent into a pointless role in a pointless film. The upside is, Greenberg will at least make you feel better about your own life—even your slightest relationships are likely to be more substantial than Roger’s, and thus, more meaningful. Just don’t take those friends to this film if you wish to keep them.
For a director with so many critically acclaimed notches in his megaphone (The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, The Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Squid and the Whale) Greenberg feels like a rookie mistake for Noah Baumbach—‘green’ is right.
Broadly speaking, there are two types of films—character driven and plot driven (or a balanced combination of the two.) One end of the spectrum can generally compensate for the other—if your characters aren’t interesting or well-developed, just make sure your plot is dynamite. If your plot meanders and goes nowhere, just ensure there are fascinating characters along for the ride.
Well, Greenberg’s plot is barely discernible: overly neurotic, self-analytical man house-sits for his brother. Which means the bulk of our cinema-going expectations fall on Roger’s character to bear. Unfortunately, his character is unlikable in every way—selfish, cynical, petty and utterly unrelatable, Roger offers no reason for us to want to spend any more than a few moments with him.
Having made his ‘nothing’ declaration, he spends his days writing stupidly specific complaint letters to restaurants and airlines; however, even these ‘edgy’, cynical diatribes about modern culture fall completely flat—they lack any of the pinpointed truth or acidity that usually make these soapbox moments so memorable.
When not penning trite tripe, he’s becoming reacquainted with old college bandmate Ivan (Rhys Ifans) and romancing (or nomancing, rather) his brother’s personal assistant Florence (newcomer Greta Gerwig). However, the only characters more unsympathetic than Roger are these two—simply for the limitless tolerance they have for his company.
I understand suspension of disbelief is a requirement to enjoying many aspects of films, but the Golden Gate bridge couldn’t suspend my disbelief that anyone would become intimately involved with Roger.
Dry quips are strewn about, earning a smile here and there, but they’re too sparse to solidify any sense of attachment with the cast. In an uncomfortable way, Greenberg seems to almost avoid engaging with substantial meaning or humanity at all—and the inconclusive ending sees nobody really having changed.
It’s a pleasant film to look at, but a pain to watch—and the most painful part of the whole sordid affair is that Stiller is brilliant in it. Unfortunately, he’s poured his remarkable talent into a pointless role in a pointless film. The upside is, Greenberg will at least make you feel better about your own life—even your slightest relationships are likely to be more substantial than Roger’s, and thus, more meaningful. Just don’t take those friends to this film if you wish to keep them.
Your review sounds like it comes from a seasoned film critic, and i guess you are one. But didn't Wes Anderson direct life aquatic and mr fox?
ReplyDeleteKeep up the nice writings. You have certainly improved since the days of your myspace blog.
I'm going to ignore your recommendation and watch this movie anyway!
ReplyDelete