Greenberg, written and directed by Noah (Baumbach, is a middle-aged dysfunctional male fantasy film about a 40-year-old loser screw-up, Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller) who finds his soul mate in a younger woman, his brother Phillip’s personal assistant, Florence Marr (Greta Gerwig). I bought into it indecently easily, probably because I recognise the type of man Roger is – akin to my contemporaries whose lives have been blighted by one bad decision.
As a founder member of the group the Magic Marker, Roger threw away the band’s one chance of a record deal and consequently never realised his potential. Instead, he became a carpenter in New York. “It’s a political thing”, he says trying to justify his profession. Some years later, he had a nervous breakdown. We first meet him about 15 minutes into the film, when he moves into his brother’s house, the latter (Chris Messina) having jetted off to Vietnam with his family on business. Convalescing and attempting to make himself useful by building a kennel for the family dog, Roger finds himself dependent on Florence – she drives, he doesn’t. He also hooks up with former band member Ivan (Rhys Ifans) who is having marital problems.
Roger blows hot and cold throughout. He reaches out to Ivan, but won’t acknowledge Ivan’s eight year-old son. He gravitates towards Florence but is appalled by her account of hanging out with some guys and masquerading “as a slut”. Roger holds a mini-birthday meal in a restaurant but reacts violently when he is brought a cake by a group of singing waiters. He writes an endless series of letters to corporations out of impotent rage, but is genuinely excited when one of them is printed in the New York Times. He wants to be creative, but is tempted by the offer of a trip to Australia.
The big set piece is a near-disastrous party in which Roger takes drugs. He recognises and is insulted by the gap between himself and youth. The young partygoers treat him as an anachronism, amusing to watch but easily dismissed, especially when he wants to play Duran Duran as chill-out music. For his part, he sees them as spoilt by permissive parents. In this scene, as throughout the movie, Baumbach depicts a very unromantic view of love and manifest destiny. Existence is a muddle of impulses, many of which don’t turn out for the best.
Stiller succeeds in making an extremely unsympathetic character interesting to watch. You root for him to overcome his neurosis. The film’s weakness is Florence, who is a rather idealised woman. She begins a sexual relationship with Roger all too easily, as if it were an extension of her household duties Gerwig comes across as, urban and sophisticated, but unformed by ambition and self-belief. Florence captures melancholy because it is the only emotion she knows; it is not a performance but her natural state. Nevertheless, you see why Roger reaches out to her. She is attempting to build from a low base. She inspires him and all the middle-aged dysfunctional males in the audience.
