Film: Jeff, Who Lives at Home
Rating: 4.5/5
In
the opening scene of Jeff, Who Lives at Home, the title character articulates
a profound philosophical understanding of M. Night Shyamalan’s Signs. Besides
being an excellent description of (part of) what makes Signs a great film, it
is a perfect introduction to the character of Jeff. Movie characters born from
ideas in other movies are rare, but can rank among the more interesting.
Jeff
(Jason Segel) looks for “signs” in his everyday life. There isn’t much
opportunity for them to appear in said life, considering he is 30 years old,
unemployed, and spends most of his time in his mother’s basement. He isn’t
paranoid, merely lazy, with a Lebowski-esque philosophy on how to conduct himself.
In a way he is the most calculating character in the movie; generally, he is reluctant
to do anything, but when he does decide to undertake something, he prefers to
think it out first. Or he just gets high. Usually he gets high.
His
boisterous brother Pat (Ed Helms), does not share Jeff’s childlike sentiment
that there are greater things simply awaiting. He claims to have it all figured
out, and it is as simple as getting a job and a wife, and making the right
choices to live a long, “normal” life. Turns out Pat is not very good at this, however,
as his marriage is on the rocks. In addition to that, he is materialistically
impulsive, easily buckling to his desire for a Porsche.
On
one (presumably rare) occasion, Jeff emerges from his den to run an errand. One
simple outing to the store. Along the way, he begins to see things that may be
the signs for which he has been searching. Or at least that’s what he believes,
with just enough conviction to forget his chore and follow them. This is new for Jeff: moving on
instinct. Awkwardly and insecurely, he pursues the agents of fate, and winds up
crossing paths with his brother Pat, who proceeds to have quite possibly the
worst day of his life. Together, they investigate a hunch that Pat’s wife Linda
(Judy Greer) is having an affair. Jeff tells his brother about the signs.
Coincidence, Pat scoffs, but Jeff cannot help but feel the gentle tug of
destiny.
The
brothers realize that they have had similar dreams involving their late father.
Is that coincidence? Pat reaches for a rational explanation, much to the dismay
of Jeff and his irrational (though not necessarily incorrect) answer. Much of
the film’s progress lies in such contrasts between Jeff, Pat, and their mother,
Sharon (Susan Sarandon). Sharon is widowed, works in a cubicle, and seems
perpetually frustrated with her sons, particularly Jeff. Interestingly,
although Sharon is the parent, in her own storyline she faces the more
adolescent situation: she is rather innocuously approached (via instant
message) by a “secret admirer” from her workplace. Jeff and Pat, meanwhile, are
technically the children, but are caught up in the very adult situation of
adultery. All three, however, act like children to some degree most of the time. Sharon and her
friend giggle like teenagers over her anonymous suitor. Jeff and Pat, often
bickering, act rashly and immaturely, sneaking about and following Linda.
The
more important contrast between the characters, though, is their respective
beliefs. If stumped, Jeff would sit down on the curb and wait for something to
come along. Pat believes that great things much be reached out for and grabbed.
Sharon, on the other hand, has entirely given up hope for anything happier than
what she has, which is why she is hesitantly intrigued by the proposition she
receives. The family struggles through the day, blindly headstrong, unable to
comprehend each other’s outlooks, and this is where the movie finds its magic
and becomes one of the most enjoyable and satisfying of the year.
Jeff
is the fourth feature by the writing-directing team of Jay and Mark Duplass.
All of their movies are about family. They are two of the most sensitive comedy
writers currently working. And (as of late, at least) they create characters
that are complex, multi-dimensional, and real,
and they require very talented actors to portray them. Of the performances in Jeff, Segel’s stands out the most. Within the 80-odd minutes of the movie, he
transitions back and forth (successfully, and many times) between a leading
role and a supporting role. This is the same character, mind you. In some
scenes, Jeff is alone, misunderstood, confusedly pursuing what he feels is his
personal destiny. In others, although still awkward and naïve, he is the loyal,
intrepid sidekick to his increasingly desperate and distraught brother. Perhaps
this disparity is a flaw of the writing, but Segel understands the subtle
similarities and differences of Jeff’s multiple sides so well, and plays them with
such beautiful sincerity and painful humor, that he melds them into one
complete character. It is easily his best screen performance to date.
Ed
Helms, too, breaks through as an impressive dramatic actor. Here, he relieves
himself of the goofiness that has burdened him for the past six or so years. It
has worked to his advantage on The Office and in last year’s Cedar Rapids,
less so in just about everything else. In Jeff, when Helms is upset, we are
not laughing. As a matter of fact, we are often not laughing even when he is
trying to be funny, and that seems intentional as well. All of the principle
characters in Jeff are eventually forced to take deep introspective looks,
and we get the impression that Pat feels the worst about what he sees.
The
Duplass Brothers achieved their greatest commercial and critical success in
2010 with Cyrus. There are key similarities between that film and Jeff that
are worth pointing out. In both films, for instance, the Duplasses employ a
visual technique, inspired by the mumblecore movement, of highly conscious
handheld filming. The practicality of this is debatable, but an argument
could be made that it fosters a more intimate environment in which to observe
the characters. Also akin to Cyrus, Jeff features a delightful score from
indie comedy favorite Michael Andrews. But there is a deeper, and more revealing,
connection between them: Both Cyrus and Jeff are about good people who have
forgotten how to act in order to sustain healthy relationships. With this in
mind, the two movies become just about equally funny and touching.
Ultimately,
though, there is a more universal theme in Jeff, and one that causes us to
think more than Cyrus does. Maybe not a lot more, but a little more. The
themes of Cyrus are mainly emotionally driven, while in Jeff, the beliefs
of the individual characters are what carry the movie to its conclusion.
But
why? Is the ending inevitable? Or does it only come about because Jeff chooses
to get out of his mother’s basement and go to the store? Jeff, Who Lives at
Home is a movie of more questions than answers, but it does declare one
certainty, and if you have been won over by the film by then, you will find it quite
pleasing. In life there are, as Jeff would say, “perfect moments.” Maybe by destiny.
Maybe because of our choices. Maybe through the influence of others. They
happen. If you’re unhappy in the morning, who knows where you’ll be at the end
of the day.
