3.5 stars. Rated R, for profanity
By Derrick Bang
Getting older is difficult
enough, in terms of physical and emotional challenges, without having to worry
about the need to remain “relevant.”
 |
| In the aftermath of a truly silly consciousness-raising experience, Josh (Ben Stiller) and Cornelia (Naomi Watts) attempt to make sense of the previous evening, to determine whether any useful insight might have been achieved. Sadly, they've a ways to go before any genuinely helpful epiphanies. |
Perversely, though, that issue
has become more challenging in our modern world, with cultural and
technological imperatives changing not by the decade, not even by the year, but
at times — seemingly — by the month. More than ever before, it feels like only
agile young minds have a hope of keeping up.
But is “keeping up” really that important?
Intellectual obsolescence is the
core issue of Noah Baumbach’s newest character study, but the writer/director
actually has much more on his mind. Part comedy, part drama and all biting social
commentary, While We’re Young is a
perceptive take on 21st century fortysomethings who worry that life is passing
them by ... or, worse yet, long ago left town on the last bus.
Mid-life crises are nothing new,
of course; every generation crosses this more-or-less halfway point with
varying degrees of the same angst. But Hollywood didn’t really discover the
genre until 1955’s The Seven Year Itch,
and most of the topic’s classics are more recent: 1973’s Save the Tiger, 1979’s Manhattan,
1999’s American Beauty and 2004’s Sideways come quickly to mind.
While We’re Young definitely belongs in their
company. Baumbach has an unerring ear for troubled interpersonal dynamics,
dating back to his Oscar-nominated script for 2005’s The Squid and the Whale. That said, some of his subsequent films —
however insightful — spent too much time with unpalatable or downright
mean-spirited characters; it’s difficult to embrace any message when delivered by, say, the misanthropic title
character in Greenberg.
But Baumbach’s approach has been
gentler of late, starting with the forlorn misfit played so winningly by Greta
Gerwig, in 2012’s Frances Ha. Maybe
it’s because Baumbach is gaining maturity not merely as a filmmaker, but also
as a person; it can’t be accidental that he’s the same age as his protagonists
in While We’re Young, definitely his
kindest — and therefore more approachable — film to date.
We meet Josh (Ben Stiller) and
Cornelia (Naomi Watts) as they nervously try to interact with a newborn: not
theirs, as we quickly discover, but the first child of best friends Fletcher
and Marina (Adam Horovitz and Maria Dizzia). As displayed so expressively by
Watts — Cornelia tries, but doesn’t quite succeed, to hide her agitation — this
moment is a crisis, and not merely because it revives painful memories of their
own failed attempts to have children.
No, it’s a crossroads. Just as
marriage leaves still-single friends feeling isolated, new parents with kids
instantaneously join yet another social clique that simply doesn’t allow for
childless members ... no matter how polite the lip-service.
Just like that, Josh and Cornelia
feel left out.
This has been building for
awhile. They’ve settled into a comfortable rut that shuns spontaneity; they go
to bed early each night; they take each other for granted. Life has ... lost
its zest. Or so they fear, during hilariously self-defensive conversations
laden with twitchy rationalization.
Let it be acknowledged, by the
way, that Baumbach deserves his reputation as a next-gen Woody Allen. It’s not
merely that Josh, Cornelia and their “troubles” feel much like one of Allen’s
angst-y relationship sagas; they also clearly live in one of the “creative
class” neighborhoods in Allen’s vision of New York City. Not a bad thing, mind
you, but a very definite style: one that probably won’t play as well in the
American heartland, as it does on both coasts.
Anyway...
Matters aren’t helped by the fact
that Josh is naturally insecure. He burst on the indie cinema scene years
earlier, with a brilliant documentary: a career he embraced by following in the
footsteps of his idol, veteran documentarian Leslie Breitbart (Charles Grodin,
at his crusty, caustic best) ... who also happens to be Cornelia’s father. She
also works in the biz, as an indie producer.
Marrying Cornelia was a genuine
act of mutual love and devotion, but the aftermath has left Josh fearing that
he’ll never match his early success, and — worse yet — forever remain in his
father-in-law’s shadow. Which likely explains why he has struggled with his
current film for 10 years: a period so long that his recent on-camera interview
segments don’t match earlier shoots, because he has changed too much during the intervening decade.
Baumbach has plenty of fun poking
at this ostentatiously oblique subset of documentaries; Josh’s new film clearly
is obtuse and utterly unwatchable ... not that he’d ever admit as much.
At low ebb, plagued by self-doubt
and newfound concerns about legacy, Josh is “rescued” by a chance encounter
with Jamie (Adam Driver) and Darby (Amanda Seyfried), a vibrant young couple
who know and admire his early work. Josh is flattered; he introduces them to
Cornelia, and they’re both captivated by the fun, flirty, free-spirited nature
of these twentysomethings.
Best of all, they don’t seem to
be age-ist; they’re simply ... well ... sincerely friendly.
Jamie and Darby surround
themselves with the cultural “artifacts” more appropriate to the previous
generation. They read books, not screens; they have a turntable and a wall of
LPs; when they want to watch a movie, they dig through stacks of VHS tapes. By
droll contrast, Josh and Cornelia are all about smart phones and other
high-tech amenities.
Jamie and Darby seem to be the
people that Josh and Cornelia remember being, and would like to be again; and
since the younger couple is eagerly inclusive, why not?
The resulting storyline moves in
mischievous, even mildly unsettling directions, initially circling and soon
settling on Baumbach’s actual message: to thine own self be true. Getting there
involves plenty of discomfort, including some scenes that prompt squirms of
embarrassed agony. Navigating treacherous social waters is never pretty, and
Baumbach is merciless.
Don’t get scared; other sequences
are laugh-out-loud hilarious, and Baumbach never puts his characters through
more than they can endure. And not everything is about relationships; the
script also includes some astute zingers about aging. My favorite, by far, is
an otherwise routine doctor’s visit that surprises Josh with a diagnosis of
arthritis.
“You mean ... arthritis arthritis?” he asks,
incredulously.
“Well, I usually only say it
once,” replies the doctor, straight-faced, without the slightest effort at
humor. Which, of course, makes the scene even funnier.
Stiller is right at home in this
part, but — happily — he minimizes the tics and quirks that have for years
typified often obnoxious “Ben Stiller roles.” Instead, he displays a sweet,
mildly confused and genuinely sympathetic side that anybody over 40 will recognize
immediately ... particularly with Josh’s insistence that his values, his
understanding of the universe, still matters.
Watts’ performance is subtler,
and therefore more real-world. We grieve for Cornelia’s despair regarding
children, and understand that this is what propels her headlong plunge into the
carefree lifestyle represented by Jamie and Darby; it’s a way of forgetting.
Driver, working constantly and
maturing rapidly as an actor, is perfect as the casual, cheerful, comradely
Jamie. Driver is all smiles and laid-back charm, and yet there’s ... well, something about Jamie. Something a bit
too calculating. Odd, for instance, that he never offers to pick up the check, instead
banking on Josh’s instinctive generosity.
Darby is harder to read, although
that isn’t Seyfried’s fault. Baumbach’s script doesn’t pay as much attention to
her, which is frustrating; as this narrative moves into its third act, it
becomes important to know what’s going through Darby’s head, and we never
really get that answer.
Jamie, on the other hand, we get
to know perfectly.
Baumbach’s ultimate take-away
message, sharply and subtly delivered, is that we’re all poseurs of a sort:
separated not so much by social variations in an ever-evolving world, but more
so simply by age. Josh is — let’s face it — something of a self-involved jerk,
albeit one who wishes to better himself. His father-in-law, Leslie, is an
entirely different sort of self-involved jerk: one who, with the satisfaction
of advanced years, is wholly comfortable with the label, perhaps having
convinced himself that it isn’t even jerk-dom.
People change. More important,
definitions change. Acceptable behavior changes. The latter is the hardest to
endure, because personal integrity is essential to one’s soul; part of wisdom,
then, might be the painful recognition that ethics, far from fixed, “float” all
the time. (More’s the pity.)
Plenty to contemplate, all told.
Not bad for an essentially light-hearted character romp.
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