Noah Baumbach has made a career out of making films about wounded, upper class, over educated, dysfunctional people in various states of arrested development. So much so that every review you read about one of his works starts off by mentioning how he makes films about dysfunctional people. With good reason though: the topic is unavoidable. Some people can accept that seeing a Baumbach film is going to be a couple hours of spending time with hateful, unlikable leads and enjoy it for what it is, but others find what he does pointless and reprehensible. When deciding whether or not to recommend one of his films it’s important to get mention of the content out of the way right up front. I went into Greenberg a bit undecided as to how I felt about Baumbach as an auteur. When I saw his first film, Kicking and Screaming, I found it to be an unpleasant experience; nothing more than time spent with pretentious, self-indulgent brats. I didn’t revisit his work because of this until stumbling across his best received film to date, The Squid and the Whale, which floored me with how easily it managed to tell a story about unpleasant characters in uncomfortably real situations while still managing to remain flat out entertaining. I went into Margot at the Wedding with high hopes and a newfound enthusiasm for Baumbach as a filmmaker and was let down when it was nothing more than a directionless story of inconsiderate people acting inconsiderate toward one another. Greenberg, then, is a bit of a last chance when it comes to my opinion of what Baumbach has to offer. Was The Squid and the Whale a fluke, or was Margot at the Wedding just a slight misstep by an artist trying to find his voice?
Greenberg is the story of a 40 year-old never was named Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller) who, having recently suffered a nervous breakdown, has come back home to his brother’s house to dog sit and take it easy. The story goes that he was once the creative force behind a nearly successful rock band, but backed out of a recording contract offer and decided to live an anonymous life as a carpenter at the age of 25; thus alienating his friends and band mates and sending him on a path toward nothing. Now that he has experienced mental illness out on the east coast he has returned home where he will have to confront the people he alienated in his past life, try to reconnect with past flames, etc. If it sounds like you’ve heard this story before that’s probably because you’ve seen an indie film over the last ten years. Greenberg, thankfully, takes this familiar story and turns it on its head. Just when you think you’re set up to be bored by a well-worn tale of a hipster failure reconciling his past, enter Florence. Florence (Greta Gerwig) is Greenberg’s brother’s 25 year-old assistant. She’s sweet and open hearted, but confused and trying to figure out what her life is going to become. Greenberg is maybe the last thing a young girl with so much potential needs, but they’re both such lost souls that it’s inevitable that they’re going to come together in some way.
What Greenberg is mostly about is character. It’s not just that Greenberg has screwed up his life, or how he screwed up his life, but why he did it. The character, as its presented, is a prickly, anti-social bottle of insecurities that frequently lashes out at the people around him with little reason and no intention of apologizing later. At one point he tries to go for a swim in his brother’s pool and is only able to muster up a pathetic doggy paddle that leaves him nearly drowned. It seemed to me to be a deliberate metaphor for his struggle through life. Greenberg never learned to swim, as living in New York it was probably never completely necessary for him. Similarly, he probably never learned to do a lot of things that would have helped his transition into adulthood. Greenberg tries to disguise his failure to develop as a person as unwillingness to compromise; the corporate structure of a recording contract would have forced him to dilute his art, achieving success would have just been an ego trip, etc. What seems more likely is that Greenberg refuses to participate because it would take him out of his comfort zone. He more likely refuses to try because he is afraid of failure. His exact motivations are mostly left up to the viewers to decide for themselves, but that becomes part of the fun of the movie. Most of his spare time in his brother’s house is spent writing complaint letters to various businesses that he has but small issues with. We’re never given a reason why he does this, or a pay off to what the letters achieve, but it seems that they speak to a desire he still has to be heard. They express regret at rejecting a platform to reach people earlier in his life. Though he would never admit it himself, Greenberg has regrets, he has desires, and that’s one of the things that allows us to stay with him as an audience despite the reprehensible way that he treats the people around him.
The Florence character becomes the lens through which we approach Greenberg. She is vulnerable, super emotive, and you can’t help but come to empathize with her. Several times throughout the film we are given brief interludes of still shots on Florence’s face as she drives. The scenes are dialogue free and their success relies solely on Gerwig’s ability to communicate her feelings through facial expressions. When she’s in a good mood, we’re happy. When she’s sad, we become tense and uncomfortable. More than any scene featuring the main character, it’s these interludes that set up the mood of the film. Where Greenberg is aloof and unapproachable, Florence demands to be identified with. Without her presence Greenberg could have left me cold as a film, much like Margot at the Wedding, but with her involvement I also become involved. When Greenberg lashes out at her I want to choke him, when he comforts her I want to give him a pat on the back.
None of this would have been effective without pitch perfect performances by the lead actors, and Stiller and Gerwig completely deliver. Stiller is often criticized for playing the same type of character in every film in which he appears, but here he is so nuanced and perfect in the role that I stopped thinking of him as a big film star and just started thinking of him as Roger Greenberg. Greenberg is often a chore to be around, but Stiller is able to show that his behavior is more defense than offense. He is self deprecating and sad eyed enough that we never lose our ability to root for him. Much like Crazy Heart seemed to be conceived as the perfect platform for what Jeff Bridges does last year, Greenberg works to spotlight Stiller’s screen presence and repertoire like nothing he’s done before. If ever he had a chance to be recognized during awards season, it will be for this. The entire success of the film hinges on the fact that we don’t start hating Greenberg as a character, and Stiller’s performance is another of the reasons that the film succeeds.
But despite Stiller’s career performance, the real revelation here might be Gerwig. The character of Florence is a complex one; she goes through all the paces of character development that an actress would hope for in a role. Gerwig is able to remain natural and engaging no matter the circumstance her character finds herself in, but more than her skill at acting her most important asset seems to be an innate “it” factor. She exudes such a natural warmth and magnetism that it’s impossible to not become emotionally involved with her struggles. I imagine that plenty more filmmakers will be looking to exploit this gift in the coming years. I expect to see a lot more of Greta Gerwig, and I’m excited to watch where her career goes. Also worth mention is Rhys Ifans as Ivan, Greenberg’s best friend and former band mate. He’s not given the most screen time, but what he’s given is used well as he’s able to create a likable, but sort of run down oaf of a character that draws on our sympathies. Our ability to like Ivan and Florence, and their willingness to keep giving Greenberg chances, gives us the ability to keep giving the film a chance to go somewhere satisfying.
Greenberg is shot using lots of natural light. It isn’t afraid of sun flares on the image, and the whole presentation gets a real vintage 70s vibe as a result. The aesthetic helps us begin to feel like Greenberg ourselves, stuck in the past, seeing the world a way the people around us don’t. And Greenberg’s attempt to span a generation gap and create some kind of connection with Florence is largely what the film is about. The focus, the tension, surrounds where their interactions are going to go, but Greenberg never falls into the trap of adhering to the typical romantic comedy structure. The characters are lonely and reaching out for someone, but their journey toward each other is more realistic than what you get in mainstream films. Their trip is much closer to wandering lost through the woods than it is taking a well-worn path towards inevitable romance. I’ve talked a lot about what works to keep us with the film and give it a chance, so I guess the ultimate question is whether or not our willingness to stay with the story pays off in the end. While Greenberg’s ending might not exactly be happy, its characters are probably too wounded for that to be believable, it is sweet. Greenberg and Florence may not find happiness, but at least nobody self-destructs. The ending we’re presented with might not be totally closed and unambiguous, but it is logical in how it pays off the character’s journeys, and I found it satisfying.
Greenberg more than solidifies Baumbach’s place as a filmmaker that I’m watching. The characters here might be hateful, cruel, and broken like the ones in Margot at the Wedding, but Greenberg adds something to the mix that the other film doesn’t. Unlike the feuding sisters in Margot, Greenberg is searching for something, he longs, and he wants to fix himself. He interacts with people that we just flat out like. It’s not just an exhibition of people behaving badly. In this context the behavior quirks work to make Greenberg more interesting, but don’t go too far to make him irredeemable. If Baumbach is able to realize what differentiates films like this and The Squid and the Whale, which were well received, and Margot at the Wedding, which turned people off, I can see him being able to forge a very successful career as a sort of cross between Woody Allen and Henry James.
