Awkward, deliberate and stilted to an almost uncomfortable, audience-cough-breaks-the-silence level, Noah Baumbach — generally a master of nuanced comedy who tilts his characters toward a mean-spirited and self-centered mien that always delivers brutally honest laughs — may have angled the tone of his new film, “Greenberg,” just slightly too far in the wrong direction.
Focusing on one of his most unlikable and caustic characters yet, “Greenberg” centers on Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller), an aimless 40-something-year-old man, just recovering from some kind of undisclosed breakdown in New York, who travels to Los Angeles to house sit for his obnoxiously successful older brother (Chris Messina) about to embark on a vacation with his family to Southeast Asia.
Phillip Greenberg (Messina) is wealthy enough that he owns a gigantic house, with a pool, multiple cars and a 25-year-old assistant Florence (Greta Gerwig) with a catch-all job that includes taking care of the kids, the shaggy dog Mahler, groceries and other menial tasks. Selfless and amiable to a fault, a total wallflower and almost as directionless and emotionally windswept as Roger, she lives in tiny studio flat in Hollywood and seemingly does whatever she’s told even if it means sleeping with random strangers.
When Greenberg arrives to L.A., his condescending brother arms him with simple tasks, such as taking care of Mahler and well, that’s about it. Seemingly suffering from agoraphobia, anthropophobia, and myriad other neuroses, the twitchy and anxious Greenberg tends to stay indoors, away from his brother’s neighbors, who have carte blanche to cavort in his pool, and most people. A carpenter by trade, the only time he tends to do something — and arguably the film is filled with moments where nothing happens — is when he tries to build Mahler a dog house.
Eventually Greenberg’s ineptitude with everyday things leads him to cross paths and lean on the assistance of Florence. Their meet-cute is more like a clumsy knocking each other’s heads and they seem utterly wrong for one another. But bored, restless and possessing a Tourette’s-like energy that leads him to say and act on strange impulses, Greenberg eventually tries to court the young girl, but chivalry and anything gentlemanly are traits that the abrasive man just doesn’t exhibit. In fact, in his first, rather un-gallant and ungracious pawing of the female, it just doesn’t occur to the adult to behave in ways that aren’t unpleasant. And sadly, the Florence character is so listless, complicit and suggestible, she pretty much puts up with his verbal abuse and fragmented approach to life.
While Stiller puts in one of the best dramatic performance of his career — thankfully free of his goofy mugging — and really takes the unsympathetic nature of his character to the hilt, it’s still a pretty sour experience. Gerwig is also a sad treat of enabling emotional complicity and near victimhood. Her character is such a pushover and practically welcomes all forms of abuse in that she never sticks up for herself or says no. She’s completely incapable of standing up for herself or possessing any kind of self-assuredness and this quality is frustrating to the viewer. “Greenberg” is challenging and Baumbach’s most difficult pill to swallow so far. While comedy and emotional candidness is delivered via excellent scenes with Rhys Ifans — Greenberg’s college friend still wounded over the fact that his buddy bailed on their one chance at a record deal during their heyday — and Mark Duplass (another bandmate who is much more bitter), there’s still plenty of bile and acidity to go around (Jennifer Jason Leigh’s ex-girlfriend character provides one of the film’s most painful to watch sequences).
Another odd, perhaps even off-putting element to the film is its documentary-like, observational camera work from the usually great Harris Savides which tends to leave the viewer even more disengaged then they might be via these dislikable characters and the sometimes downright odious Greenberg himself. Musically, James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem can’t do much to help either, plodding along with innocuous piano tunes, simple guitars and 4/4 beats that reek of amateur, “I’ve just completed my first indie-music film score.”
Taking a relaxed, almost exploratory, trying-to-capture-moments approach, Baumbach also seems as if he’s absorbed some of the mumblecore aesthetic he’s come to admire so much in recent years (more than just hiring Duplass and Gerwig, he’s also executive produced some of Joe Swanberg’s films of late as well). And in many ways, this choice feels like a step backward for a filmmaker with a much more sharper and polished countenance.
“Greenberg” does have some humorous moments, Mark Duplass’ cutting appearance is quite good, and the appearance of Brie Larson and Juno Temple at a party where a coked-up Greenberg flys out of control is quite amusing and breaks up the monotony, but it just doesn’t add up overall to an deep engagement level that you’ve come to expect from Baumbach. Another core issue with Greenberg is its strange tone, odd pace and its energy-less plot; the film doesn’t limp towards the end, but rather sort of stumbles across it with an uncertain, disaffected mood.
While the sprawling location of Los Angeles and its alienated, geographically (and emotionally) dispersed mood is only meant to amplify the disconnection from life that Greenberg (and ostensibly all of us) feel, the romance in the film is barely there and the conjunction of these two displaced souls seems very accidental and temporary rather than any kind of true kismet. More true to life than a movie? Perhaps this is exactly by design, as Baumbach doesn’t enjoy taking emotional shortcuts or giving the audience an easy out. While he might be applauded for that, many viewers will find the experience an un-enjoyable tough slog. The main problem might be the fealty that the director feels towards his protagonist. Greenberg as a person is emotionally incoherent, spastic, and inconsistent — veering from good-natured, if nervous conversations to outbursts of shitty behavior — and this approach can’t help but seep into the flesh of the picture. If Greenberg was a friend, he’d probably be one that you keep at arm’s length if at all.
And it’s interesting to note we’re finding ourselves out of touch with critics on this one. We — and this writer in particular — are huge Noah Baumbach fans. But while we loved the mostly despised “Margot At The Wedding,” most critics are loving “Greenberg” and it currently sits at a 86% score on Rotten Tomatoes. Go figure (though there’s only twelve reviews and they come from top critics, we bet a lot of mainstream ham and egger critics are going to roast the picture and its number will fall).
There is value in “Greenberg,” it’s mannered, textured, funny, nuanced and has some great performances, but it is unquestionably a very difficult picture with sagging moments and that often feels narratively fractured. We’d probably still encourage people to go see it, as it is a filmmaker we usually put our full trust into, but perhaps the managing of expectations are probably a wise decision before entering the theater. [C+]
“Greenberg” opens in limited release this weekend (March 19) and then begins to expand wider on March 26.