At the Arthouse
In Greenberg, Ben Stiller has a case of arrested development
There are things to like in the new Noah Baumbach film Greenberg. Baumbach is the chronicler of Gen Y angst who made The Squid and the Whale and Margot at the Wedding. This time he’s tracking a character in his early-40s, Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller), who is missing 15 years in his emotional development.
That is, he’s stuck on 25.
Under the “things to like” category I will file Greta Gerwig’s performance as Florence, who is the mid-20s personal assistant of Roger’s highly successful brother. Roger, a New Yorker, is in Los Angeles house-sitting in for the brother and his family while they are on a long business trip to Vietnam, so Florence gets to baby-sit him. Gerwig’s performance is highly original, always charming but perhaps only partially believable. She appears only marginally interested in sex, but utterly devoid of sexual boundaries. When Roger makes a painfully awkward move on her (and move is quite an understatement) she just lies back and thinks about who-knows-what? Maybe the Greenberg family dog, to whom she is unusually devoted.
There’s a very unusual sweetness and even sincerity to Florence’s passivity. I wasn’t sure that I bought it, but I liked watching Gerwig work.
Rhys Ifans’s turn as Ivan, Roger’s former rock-and-roll band mate is dead on. Playing the character that Roger might’ve become if he had any capacity for growth, Ifans is quite touching. His character is a bit of a cliché; he’s a former musician who went through rehab and all the rest of it and is now trying to grow into a life he’d “never imagined.” That is, life with a family. But Ifans plays him so earnestly, and with such delicacy, that the viewer viscerally understands his fear of falling back into the trappings of the rock life.
The film also has some very well observed scenes, especially the party with a group of 20-year-olds that Roger finds himself in the middle of. The scene is cringeworthy, especially when he starts arguing with boys half his age about who will be in charge of the music.
Ouch.
But what the movie doesn’t have is a compelling reason for being. I guess I have to give Stiller credit for daring to go dark. There are serial killers stalking the Red Boxes of America who aren’t as dark as Roger. Presumably, however, they’re more interesting than this schlmiel.
The problem isn’t that he’s unsympathetic, or that he refuses to grow up. Roger is just so…boring. His plan for his immediate future is “to do nothing for a while.” That might be poignant (in a movie, at least) in someone 12 years younger, here it just had me wondering when the movie would be over. Florence is boring too, in her sweet little way. I intend to stop thinking about them as soon as this review is finished.