Greenberg

"Hurt people hurt people". Like some kind of psychological pun for beginners psychology students, this is the best possible way to explain the Noah Baumbach subject. Frustrated with the world, they lash out at any and every one in their path. Baumbach's latest, 'Greenberg', puts us right back in his sadly comic world. This time, though, its a lot easier to go there. The element of tragedy is downplayed and we finally feel more comfortable laughing at these people. 'Greenberg' also marks something of a technical achievement for Baumbach. He has at last put his fondness for shaky, vertigo-inducing camerawork and random jump-cutting behind him (or, at least aside for now) and has crafted a film that can both put you in the room without making you puke and travel through time without the impulses of an artist who often seems as attention starved as his subjects.

Baumbach goes west with 'Greenberg' to tell the breezy tale of of Ben Stiller's ex-musician - turned carpenter who's come back to Los Angeles from Brooklyn to watch his brother's house and dog while he's in Vietnam. As he likes to say to people, "I'm trying to do nothing right now". So he spends his days building a dog house, writing letters of complaint to just about every institution he comes into contact with, and trying to re-connect with the band he broke up and the girlfriend who all but forgot about him. Aiding in his day-to-day life is Florence, his brother's assistant who soon falls for Greenberg's...charm? This is really Baumbach's only real shortcoming - what the fuck does Florence see in Roger Greenberg? This seems like the kind of romantic subplot that can only be written by male screenwriters (Cameron Crowe, Vincent Gallo): sweet, intelligent girl falls for abusive, self-absorbed prick; only because she seems to be his best shot at redemption. It's the kind of romance that seems to serve only the man, the kind of romance that seems could only be written by men. Fortunately, Florence is the quintessential lonely, L.A. girl. Very much like 'Shopgirl''s Mirabelle, Florence is the classic sensitive girl who gets lost in the sprawl of L.A.: beautiful, but somewhat awkard; creative, but not terribly talented; smart, but prone to bad decisions. It's all thanks to Greta Gerwig's effortless turn that makes Florence such a welcome part of the film.

But the real joy here is the more than welcome combination of Noah Baumbach and Ben Stiller. Stiller has always been the king of awkward, its nice that he's finally found a filmmaker that showcases what I refuse to believe is anything less than a totally natural sense of passive aggressive confrontation. I mean; come on, can he really be THAT good? He takes just about any exchange and turns it into either a standoff or a completely one-sided conversation. It's nice to see him looking a little more like himself. In either smoke and mirrors-type costume fittings or a significant weight loss, Stiller has finally put away his biceps and looks a lot more like himself in slightly over-sized T-shirts, hoodies, and a slightly mod haircut. It's a flawless performance, one that he'll surely be remembered for.

Baumbach must be listening to a lot of Paul McCartney as 'Admiral Halsey' makes a drunken cameo and the only distinguishable score seems like some sort of take on 'Singalong Junk'. Like everything else in the film, it works for me.