While We're Young marks Noah Baumbach's latest generational study, his ear for cadences and eye for discomfort as on-display as ever. But it also represents his most uneven effort in quite some time, as a relatively thin narrative construct gives way to an overreliance on plot and momentum. Despite flirting with the idea of "truth" in filmmaking -- specifically in documentary filmmaking -- and subverting supposed generational divides that exist in our culture, ultimately this film serves to get a married couple that's seen better days from points A to B to C. In today's indie film and TV landscape, it's a common conceit. And it’s not what ultimately plagues While We’re Young; the skeleton of the story is where the film falls disappointingly short.
Ben Stiller reunites with Baumbach after the funny, salty Greenberg, this time playing Josh, a 40-something documentarian who never quite lived up to his potential. Naomi Watts, a Baumbach newcomer, is Cornelia, his producer wife and the daughter of a famed filmmaker (played memorably by Charles Grodin). The two, childless (and likely to stay that way), content, comfortable and sort of dry, need a spark. They need something -- you’re waiting for Baumbach to provide it. But the Squid and the Whale director is a sharp-enough writer where the time spent with Stiller and Watts is enjoyably breezy. Their rapport is generous and relaxed, and the satirical wit of Baumbach’s language is spouted very effectively.
Things only get better when they encounter a young, classically New York-hipster couple. Adam Driver is, as per usual, mesmerizingly odd as an aspiring documentary filmmaker who hits it off with Josh, and it’s nice to see Amanda Seyfried, who plays his young wife, in a role where her character outranks her looks and/or profile; she can certainly handle it. Baumbach plays with convention slyly and recognizably -- Driver and Seyfried avoid cell phones, listen to records and exercise outdoors, while Stiller and Watts’ relationship to technology is distressingly dependent -- and, in general, gets a lot of solid comedy out of these interactions. The director is at his best in such moments, playing with time and aging and what’s “current.” If not completely authentic, as some of his other works feel, its coarse sarcasm and game performers maintain a delicious bite. In particular, the ongoing process of Josh’s new documentary mines some great commentary on artistic pretension: he hires a historian to speak for hours upon hours about, as Josh describes it, “the working class,” “what it means to make a movie,” and finally, “America.” Playful but sharp, Baumbach’s intellect is worn on his sleeve throughout the first half of While We’re Young, and it serves the movie well.
The awkward uneasiness with which these characters interact is enough to keep things engaging and intriguing. They’re all looking for something in one another -- a lost spark, an affirmation of talent, a recognition of unfulfillment -- but they’re, quite clearly, looking in the wrong places. Josh naively assumes Jaime to be his protegee; Cornelia waffles between a hip hop-loving Seyfried and her older, now-with-kids acquaintances. The house of cards is bound to topple. The melancholy undercurrent to the proceedings is precisely tuned, as there’s a universal longing in each, specific conveyance.
Things get weird quickly, though. Suddenly, the rich and comprehensive interpersonal dynamics between the four individuals are all but abandoned. It's perhaps not all for naught; but without question, Baumbach loses interest. The narrative turns squarely around to Josh and Jaime, who’s revealed to be a sort-of fraud. Watts and Seyfried, who’d been more subtly given the short shrift earlier, more obviously lurk in the background and are wasted. And eventually, While We’re Young gets drowned out by a lengthy, plot-heavy climax. Suddenly, Jaime is entitled and opaquely ambitious; Josh noble and foolishly pure in his artistic ideals. The lines drawn are far too firm and obvious, and eventually Stiller is handed dialogue that underlines his character’s journey again and again. It’s hard to believe the whole thing, really, and by the time the cast of characters converges at a tribute for Grodin’s father-in-law, the film settles into an extremely contrived place. In a bizarre (and unwarranted) tonal shift, character-driven simplicity and clever satire gives way to plot-driven messiness and broad humor. Though his generational commentary initially feels on-point, Baumbach suddenly appears amused by the mere sight of Stiller rollerblading to catch his former protegee in the act.
What’s asked of the actors changes, inevitably, and that might be why the film eventually seems so pervasively off. Stiller’s good with neuroses and wistful regret, but he’s not a good-enough dramatic actor to carry Baumbach’s clunky third-act dialogue. His speechifying clarifies the film’s narrative construct with a startling lack of nuance, and he falls into that “I’m explaining my predicament funnily and loudly!” shtick that feels more Meet the Fockers than Flirting with Disaster. It’s really unfortunate that Baumbach ultimately closes-in on him since While We’re Young seems to fancy itself as an equal-sided marriage tale, and Watts is just fantastic here. She’s surprisingly adept comedically and predictably penetrating dramatically. In her late scenes with Stiller, the movie still works: she’s so emotionally involved and connective with the actor that the marriage, farcical as the surrounding events may have turned, is rendered durably believable. And though the writing may have suggested otherwise, Driver keeps Jaime human and understandable with a healthy dose of his Girls charm (Seyfried, sadly, floats along as an afterthought).
The main problem with While We’re Young may have to do with the limited nature of its narrative construct. Films like Frances Ha and The Squid and the Whale had more on their minds with more rigorous character experimentation, and so the need to fill-in details with outside elements was far less immediate. While We’re Young is more straight-up satire than is typical for Baumbach, and as such he can’t quite bring the thing together. His characters are thinner, and they don’t stray very far. There’s no room to play. Wishy-washy and unfortunately overcooked, the film reaches beyond the Baumbach-ian comedy of manners to which we were introduced. And it’s a shame, because though less exciting and perhaps less accessible, that made for a much better movie.
Grade: B-
Screened at "Growing Up Baumbach," hosted by the Film Society