Greenberg

Florence Marr (Greta Gerwig) is the Greenberg family nanny in L.A. The family goes on a trip while the brother Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller) drops by to housesit. She's young trying to find her way. He's a New Yorker misanthrope just out of an insane asylum. He doesn't drive and writes complaint letters. His friend Ivan Schrank (Rhys Ifans) pushes him to go to Eric Beller (Mark Duplass)'s barbecue where he runs into ex-girlfriend Beth (Jennifer Jason Leigh) with her kids. Roger, Eric and Ivan were once in a band but Roger refused to sign a recording deal. Florence and Roger have an on-and-off relationship.

Ben Stiller is going too dark. It's a matter of slight miscalibration. This could be a great indie rom-com but I can't find any likability to Roger. His dialog could have some sharp sarcastic jokes to take off the edge. I need to laugh with him but his dark depressed nature keeps getting into the way. Getting angry over his birthday is probably the only laughable moment although saying Florence's emotional story is pointless gets a small chuckle. His anger needs to have more comedy as an outlet and to balance his dark side. It has some good moments but it could have been better.

Just as he's turning forty, Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller) finds himself with no real friends, no significant other, and no actual purpose in life. He's also just been released from a mental institution, so you can well imagine that his neuroses are going to be pretty much off the chart as well. A carpenter and former musician who regularly resides in New York City, Greenberg is currently house-sitting at the Hollywood Hills home of his wealthy and successful brother, Phillip (Chris Messina), while the latter is away on business in Vietnam with his family. While he's staying there, Greenberg meets Florence (Greta Gerwig), a sweet but rather unfocused woman almost half his age, who works as a personal assistant – i.e. dog walker, babysitter and all-around gopher - to Phillip and his family.

Greenberg's mental issues manifest themselves through various phobias and idiosyncrasies, all of which lead us to the conclusion that he is generally just afraid of life, of taking a risk when doing so could possibly lead to failure. To that end, he avoids large groups of people, writes endless letters of complaints to companies he feels have somehow screwed him over, overreacts to other people's words and actions, and makes a general antisocial and sociopathic pain-in-the-ass of himself. And to no one is he more psychologically abusive than to Florence, a girl with her own share of vulnerabilities, who in his own crazy way he is obviously trying to impress but who he just keeps pushing away with his eccentric behavior.

It's hard to really get much of a bead on either Greenberg or Florence, and that is both the greatest strength and the greatest weakness of the screenplay by Jennifer Jason Leigh and Noah Baumbach, who also directed the film. On the one hand, one appreciates the complexity of the characters, their refusal to allow themselves to be pigeon-holed into one neatly delineated box or other. On the other, the coolly objective stance the script takes creates a barrier between us and the characters, the result being that we find it hard to identify or empathize much with them, especially Greenberg, who finally becomes as off-putting to us as he is to those he comes in contact with throughout the course of the picture. In drama, there's a fine line between a character who is intriguingly different and one who is just annoyingly self-indulgent, and "Greenberg" crosses over that line with dismaying regularity.

Still, the performances are excellent – this is probably Stiller's best dramatic work to date – and the inconclusive ending is impressively brave enough to erase a multitude of earlier sins.

Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller) is single, forty-ish and at a crossroads in his life, finds himself in Los Angeles, house-sitting for six weeks for his more successful/married-with-children brother. In search of a place to restart his life, Greenberg tries to reconnect with old friends including his former band mate Ivan (Rhys Ifans). But old friends aren't necessarily still best friends, and Greenberg soon finds himself spending more and more time with his brother's personal assistant Florence (Greta Gerwig), an aspiring singer and also something of a lost soul. Despite his best attempts not to be drawn in, Greenberg and Florence manage to forge a connection, and Greenberg realizes he may at last have found a reason to be happy.

I'm not Stiller's biggest fan. He usually does this very lame and silly comedies which aren't really my thing and that's what I was expecting from this film. Instead, Greenberg turned out to be something completely different and Stiller's performance was amazing. I hadn't been so surprised by a film in a while. And even thought you will laugh several times, this funny and moving tale is far from being a comedy. In fact, there's a sad and melancholic tone throughout the entire film and it doesn't really light up as many viewers were perhaps hoping for, which for me, made the all experience much better, because, let's face it, life isn't always great and happy endings are rare.

The script is incredibly refreshing, the dialog is brilliant and the direction was absolutely impeccable, really some of the best I've seen lately. The opening shot, for instance is a good example of what I'm talking about and it kinda set the tone for the rest of the film. There's also a lot of conceptual scenes, like Greenbelt trying to swim in the pool, which I love. Granted, the plot could have a little more direction but each scene as random as it may seem is so delightful and rich in subtext that you find yourself not really caring about that. Even the somewhat abrupt ending, which at first disappointed me but now seems completely fitting, shows how this film refuses to follow any conventional formulas.

As I've mentioned before, Stiller was great as the lead character but so was Greta Gerwig as Florence. Much like Greenberg, Florence is this sort of offish, social out-casted girl and Gerwig plays the weird and awkward "vibe" so well it's astonishing. The supporting cast did a good job too with Rhys Ifans standing out. In conclusion, Greenberg is nice little slice of life and one of the best films I've seen this year. And yes, the fact that I related to some of the lead character's anger helped a bit. Definitely worth seeing.

8/10

Ben Stiller actually does a great job in this one. Noah Baumbach has such an unusual way of making people's ordinary lives and dynamics interesting. This is no different. Stiller plays the quirky New York brother of an upper middle class LA man. Stiller, fresh from a mental hospital, housesits while his brother is in Vietnam on vacation. He becomes involved with Florence, played by Greta Gerwig, who is his brother's assistant. She is also unusual in her attraction to this odd, relatively unkind man, but she is really, really likable in this. It is, like all Baumbach's movies a look at relationships and people. Stiller is horrible and great in this all at the same time.

You know those fleeting, inelegant moments and transitory, almost Seinfeldian scenarios in our lives that, unlike on Seinfeld, we never really talk about, because they betray how clueless and insecure we all are? You know how we'll go to parties basically to see one person and find we're inept at opening up and socializing with anyone else? You know those pointless, roundabout stories we'll tell about something that happened that we thought was interesting or funny but we don't realize how boring or monotonous they are till we're halfway through them? What about the receiving end of that situation? Why are we so worried about hurting these painful storytellers' feelings when they're making us so uncomfortable having to feign interest or amusement for indefinite durations? You know those sexual experiences we never talk about even to our best friends because they were so painfully awkward and nakedly ungraceful? You know how when we're on drugs we only indulge occasionally and we find ourselves wording things in creative ways, feeling overconfident and impulsive while everyone else is viewing us as rather reckless? Roger and Florence know, all too painfully, awkwardly, uncomfortably, recklessly well.

Some of us handle these situations much better than others. Some of us save face, some of us don't care that much, some of us read other people well enough to know it's all just part of life. Forty-year-old carpenter Roger Greenberg and his brother's college-age assistant Florence are stranded by an utter deficiency of any of these possible salvages. Inevitably finding themselves sharing these horrible moments whenever they're together, they are in turn repulsed by one another. They can't stop reeling over what happened last night, the other night, a week ago. And while Florence is too timidly self-effacing and in need of being with someone to bring herself to write off Roger, Roger's whole perspective on everything is disfigured by his narcissistic compulsion toward suffering, his hermit-like disdain for any and every inconvenience, and righteous indignation that he can't allow to exist alongside ever being at fault. It's Seinfeld in the bathroom with a razor blade in the tendon.

When you watch the trailer, you're watching a nervously smoking exec hoping to at least break even by streamlining all the overtly laugh-inducing moments. With the possible exception of less than a handful, they indeed are all in the preview. The dry carping lines by Stiller, the Starbucks letter, at the party telling off the Gen-Y stoners, hitting the SUV and bailing when it actually stops. Greenberg is a comedy, but in such an internal and carefully cringe-worthy way that most scenes are seemingly shapeless renderings of a combination of characters situated in a combination of day-to-day situations and the readily apparent punchline moments are indeed that few and that far between. But that is its intent, and it succeeds with witty effect: An impossible jerk and a bashful, marginally popular girl idiosyncratically push each other's most debilitatingly precarious buttons but aren't able to go their separate ways because they're too thin-skinned to be alone. It is the ultimate anti-romantic comedy. No Golden Globe moments here.

Ben Stiller gives the performance I believe all truly good comic actors capable of, one of fierce angst and biting personal honesty. We've seen Sandler unravel an entirely different dimension of himself in Punch Drunk Love and Reign Over Me, Robin Williams in World's Greatest Dad and Insomnia, Pryor in Blue Collar, and so on. Roger Greenberg is his tour de force as a well-rounded, perceptive and talented actor who's not afraid of his audience going as far as to dislike his character, which would be entirely understandable for many viewers to feel, because he deeply understands Greenberg and doesn't judge him. The gratifying discovery we make here is that of Greta Gerwig. Yes, she is very sexy, but exactly the way Greenberg describes, "She's, I don't know, bigger. I find it sexy." She's pure salt of the earth, a real person unfettered by make-up or fashion. I know many girls who talk, dress and act just like her Florence, who she makes come alive on just the right naturalistic levels.

Writer-director Noah Baumbach made two previous films very strongly akin to this. They were the concise and beautiful The Squid and the Whale and the soul-crushingly relatable and mercilessly matter-of-fact Margot at the Wedding. All three of these films have difficult and self-unaware individuals at their centers, they each share a bone-dry and woefully cynical sense of humor and they each reveal Baumbach's inimitable talent at showing us characters and situations so universal and everyday as to level-headedly gaze at the most abstract innards of acknowledgeable moments of personal and social frustration. His actors always feel extemporaneous, in the moment, unscripted. Their characters belong to an ever-pervading yet little-characterized contemporary facet of liberalized information-age American society. At arm's length he shares the quirky, idiosyncratic likes of Wes Anderson, except there is not one shred of hopeful sweetness or heart-warming serendipity. Those are things we love, and we embrace them whenever we experience them, but at the expense of never taking the time to face the realities of the banal, the bilious stuff of everyday life. That's where Baumbach comes in.