Get out of my head: The narrator as spoilsport in "Listen Up Philip"

I love words, and tend to gravitate toward films that put them center stage.  But while movies about writers are often inspiring and revelatory, today I experienced a film that had all the right elements in place, yet just annoyed me for two hours.  Listen Up Philip, a 2014 film starring Jason Schwartzman and Elisabeth Moss, seems like it should have been an incredible journey, combining a super cast, a witty script, real issues about artists, a quirky interface, and the self-consciously "artless" indie photography that is supposed to come across as unposed, doc-style realism.  I did a little reading-up on the flick before finally deciding to sit down and watch it, and everything I learned suggested that this would become a new favorite.  But largely for one big reason, the whole thing fell flat, where it actually could have shone. Written and directed by Alex Ross Perry, the dialogue is snappy and engaging.  The directing and visual decisions are strong, and the filmmaker has some valid, if un-subtle, points to make:

• Being an artist doesn't offer license for self-involvement.  
• Even "artistic" isolation isn't a good thing. 
• Teaching is hard, and so is being a mentor.  
• Selfish people hurt others.

But as multi-layered as the relationships are, and in spite of an impressive series of strong performances, one basic conceit of the film ended up tearing it apart:  the narrator ruins it. This long-beloved cinematic device can be a useful tool, introducing an omniscient character, or at least one with the benefit of hindsight.  But where the narrator is usually icing on the cake, here he becomes a stoic, oppressive presence, telling us what to think about the characters and the choices they make. The voice crashes through the polite boundaries of free thought, and doesn't provide us with much information that we couldn't glean from the action. Worse, it doesn't give us a chance to figure anything out for ourselves.

In a way, this active participation by the narrator changes the format of the film:  it's more like an illustrated storybook, where the narrative resides in the text and the images enhance the experience. But the images should be more important than that in filmmaking, and this particular execution of the concept actually treated us like children, explaining the story and telling us what we should be learning: "See kids? When you use words as weapons and separate yourself from the people who love you, you'll be unhappy, and so will they!"  Yeah, that horse is dead already.  [Note, to be fair: this is my own snarky paraphrase, and not an actual quote from the film.]  

Curiously, the filmmakers have already made this point for me, as the narrator is absent from the quite intriguing trailer, which allows the characters to speak with their own clear voices:



Here's where I must apologize to the narrator himself, Eric Bogosian, and make it clear that his performance was not the problem here.  As a huge fan of this enigmatic and engaging actor, finding his name in the cast list was a surprise and a disappointment, as his considerable talents deserve a more functional role in any project.  The voice sounded great, but he deserves a better opportunity to shine. For instance, Jonathan Pryce was terrific as Ike, the sardonic older author who takes Philip under his wing, and Pryce was pitch-perfect, as usual.  But taking the character another direction, Bogosian might have been an intriguing, more Faustian alternative there.  The point is, Hollywood needs to give Eric B. more to do -- he's being wasted.

As for the rest of the cast, Schwartzman and Moss were both at their very best. Krysten Ritter was a nice surprise in her role as Melanie, Ike's neglected daughter, showing off subtle moments that must expand the perception of her range.  I'm sorry we didn't see more of her.  That goes for Jess Weixler, as well:  a master of layered, likable portrayals, she captured the intimacy of sisterhood with small gestures and relatable chemistry, well beyond the fact that she and Moss really do look related.  As Yvette, the spiteful faculty member who makes Philip's difficulties a little more real, Joséphine de la Baume was luminous and startlingly human, and I look forward to seeing her again.

In the end, while it's easy to embrace a true partnership of words and pictures, I found myself agonizing over this film's pacing ("are we done yet?") and frustrated, rather than terribly enlightened. If you're so sure your audience isn't going to understand your characters, re-write, or re-edit.  Show us, don't tell us. No deep-throated voice is going to save it.  In reality, the aggressive gimmickery breaks down the beauty of an otherwise very smart film.

An alternate view with excellent points:

Dana Stevens, Slate, 10/17/14 -- "Philip, Stark"  [Alt headline: "The greatest Jason Schwartzman role of Jason Schwartzman's career"]

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Listen Up Philip 

When a self-obsessed novelist (Jason Schwartzman) has problems with his novel and his girlfriend (Elisabeth Moss), he seeks refuge in his mentor's cottage where the peace and quiet allow him to focus on his favorite subject - himself.

(2014) -- Duration 1:49
Written and directed by Alex Ross Perry
Starring: Jason Schwartzman, Elisabeth Moss, Jonathan Pryce, Krysten Ritter