Directed by: Alex Ross Perry.
Written by: Alex Ross
Perry.
Starring: Jason
Schwartzman (Philip Lewis Friedman), Elisabeth Moss (Ashley Kane), Krysten
Ritter (Melanie Zimmerman), Joséphine de La Baume (Yvette Dussart), Jonathan
Pryce (Ike Zimmerman), Jess Weixler (Holly Kane), Dree Hemingway (Emily), Keith
Poulson (Josh Fawn), Kate Lyn Sheil (Nancy), Yusef Bulos (Norm), Maïté Alina (Clare),
Daniel London (Seth), Samantha Jacober (Mona), Eric Bogosian (The Narrator).
There has been a lot of
talk recently about “likable” protagonists and characters – something that has
never much interested me, and clearly doesn’t interest writer-director Alex
Ross Perry. The opening scene of Listen Up Philip has his “hero”, Philip Lewis
Friedman, played by Jason Schwartzman as the worst possible future version of
his Max Fisher from Rushmore, waiting in a restaurant for an ex-girlfriend to
give him a copy of his latest novel. When she has the nerve to show up 25
minutes late, he goes on a bile infused rant about what a horrible person she
is, never lets her get a word in edgewise, and then stocks off into the streets
of New York. Feeling good about his outburst, he then gets together with his
old college friend, and similarly browbeats the man as a sellout – about how he
has abandoned their declaration of principles, and how only he, Philip, is the
real artist. When the old friend decides he has had enough, and leaves, the
scenes pitch-black punchline comes, and delivers one of the first of many
shocked laughs.
Philip lives in a world
where everything is about himself and his work – which he knows is genius, even
if no one else seems to quite agree with him. He informs his publisher that he
will not be doing any press for his new book – hell, if shunning the press was
good enough for Tolstoy, then it’s good enough for Philip Lewis Friedman. His
novels draw the attention of Ike Zimmerman, an old author with a similar affliction
of narcissism and misanthropy, clearly based on Philip Roth – and played
brilliantly by Jonathan Pryce. He feeds Philip’s ego, and encourages him to
live the lifestyle that Ike himself has so successfully lived – which if Philip
was paying attention he would notice has left Ike a rich, but lonely man – with
no friends that he has alienated, and a daughter, Melanie (the always welcome
Krysten Ritter) who despises him – and longs to get the better of the man, who
will not let her get the upper hand ever.
It’s not like Philip
really needs Ike’s advice on how to be an asshole to those who love him, for
some reason. Even before he meets Ike, Philip is doing his best to deliberately
alienate his girlfriend of two years, Ashley (Elisabeth Moss) – a photographer,
who like Philip has had her career start to take off a little bit – and is
stuck between artistic freedom, and perhaps selling out. From the opening scene
with one ex-girlfriend, to a later scene with another ex (played by the
wonderful Kate Lyn Sheil, who was the lead in Perry’s last film – The Color
Wheel) – where she literally runs away from him in mid-conversation, we know
where this relationship is likely headed. Strangely, for a film centered on a
man, who leaves his girlfriend behind, the movie itself doesn’t leave Ashley.
The movie has one, extended sequence where it follows Ashley after Philip has
retreated to Ike’s upstate retreat to write, and eventually take a teaching position
at small college (before he leaves, Philip
tells Ashley “I hope this will be good for both of us. But especially
me”). This sequence is unlike much of
the rest of the film, where the dialogue flies quickly, and is actually
relatively quiet – making the most of Moss’ ability (honed after years on Mad
Men) to do so much with her face, which shows such complex emotions without
utterly a word – or saying one thing, while meaning another. It’s also a rather
welcome respite from all the masculine bile being spewed by Philip and Ike –
which because the writing is so sharp, and the performances by Schwartzman and
Pryce so good is both hilarious, and disturbing look at a certain type of male,
narcissistic artist.
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