The Inflection Point

Upon the third time in the last five years seeing this movie, I thought it might be time to crush some coffee and reflect on why this movie is so damn good. Let me adjust to the other side of the bed.

Then let me abridge that statement; reflect on just WHY this movie has gotten better on every re-watch. I will defer from covering the basic plot points, recapping huge turns, stories, and the perfect casting. I will even mute my critiques on the acting performances of the big three here, Ben Stiller (tremendous) Dustin Hoffman (outstanding) and Adam Sandler (surprisingly earnest?).

No the movie itself is a modern, if not unassuming, specifically New York story – a story of a liberal arts family, well off financially, and looking towards the future in circles most of us will never know. It flips the typical American family standard that Hollywood has made a large scene on; foregoing the big houses, picket fence, and picnics for Manhattan apartments, lack of parking, and private art events. I’ve been particularly peculiar with the arts scene lately, especially the NYC arts scene – but while this movie seemingly focuses on the future of the Meyerowitz generations, it’s the past of the patriarch that holds them back.

Despite his liberal arts and posh circumstances, Harold Meyerowitz is not unlike most of his generation. Unhappy because of past failures, complaining he deserved more from all the years he gave, and most importantly, demanding of his children to follow in his footsteps – he’s created quite the family dynamic. Having a half-sister myself, this film resonated with me on just how the family dynamics can shift and how some children may get more from their fathers than other siblings. See, the beautiful thing about this film is the stark dichotomy Harold Meyerwitz and his artistic family has – he complains about having no other artists in the family, when he specifically enjoys having his entire personality on being the artist in the family. He complains one son has money but no artistic qualities when he is secretly obsessed with being “found out” and having his pieces sold for money. He berates his other son for following his artistic qualities but having no money. And that’s just the start.

It’s the script here that makes this watch the most enjoyable and educated film I’ve seen in the past five years. It’s the incredible back and forth Noah Baumbach uses to portray the male masculinity, fragility, and relative unknown about how to connect with father and son. At multiple points, characters are off having their own conversation with one another – completely aware of what they want to say, yet unaware of what the other is trying to convey. Sports scores and conversations are used in placeholders – knowing it’s the one thing father and son can agree on, content to discuss this instead of feelings. How hard it is to connect with the ones we love most. Harold Meyerowitz is an old, grumpy man that hates the world because the world failed to see his artistic accomplishments, and that in turn has sprinkled down to his children. Aware of their father’s flaws, but unaware that they too have them as scars from all of these years.

It’s a brilliant screenplay – it touches on family, art, life, legacy, and generations in a mere two hours. There’s a lot of down-ridden, witty, mundane humor in here as well. Despite a new scene, the theme here is perfectly portrayed. How do we get older with our parents? How do we age with them? How do we reconcile differences, learn from their mistakes, and lead our own families? What is to make of a great artist? Because if we’re to believe that Harold Meyerowitz is indeed, not a great artist of his time, well then he might just be some prick.

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