Everything Must Go vs Cyrus

 

Everything Must Go would make a nice companion to Sideways. Swap out wine for beer, and then take away everything else. No friends, no ladies, no great dinners or conversations. Pile everything outside, change the locks, turn off the cell service. You’re left with an alcoholic on a yard. He’s played by Will Ferrell, in a quiet, angry performance. I think it’s one of his best, in a career that keeps getting more varied and interesting. Unlike many of Ferrell’s comedy contemporaries, he can find humor in sadness without blowing a fuse (well, when required, as it is here). He doesn’t make extra noise or mug when things get uncomfortable. Instead, he becomes more observant, his squint more pronounced. I like seeing Ferrell think, especially when it seems (accurately or not) like his character doesn’t have much on his mind. In Everything Must Go, his primary thought involves getting alcohol into his body as regularly as possible.

Ferrell is Nick. In the opening scene, he’s fired from his job (His boss is played by Glenn Howerton. You know you’re in trouble when you’re fired by one of the guys from It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia). When he gets home, his wife is gone, the locks are new, and all of Nick’s belongings are on the yard. She’s not inside, but he’s too proud or afraid to break in, so he camps out, sleeping in a recliner outside. He can’t do that forever, because the neighbors have called the cops, because he lives in the suburbs, and there’s nothing more evil than a suburban movie neighbor (no one even offers him a night on a couch). Kenny (Christopher C.J. Wallace), a kid whose mom works nearby, rides his bike up and down Nick’s street, and around and around Nick, quizzing him about his life. They form a tentative friendship, and eventually, a business plan: sell all the things on the yard, instead of moving. Is the wife coming back? How much time does he have? No one ever says so. I suppose us never meeting the wife is a strategic move. We can make her as horrible as we please, based on whether or not Nick gains our sympathies.

The set-up sounds like the one for a wackier comedy. Everything Must Go was based on a story by Raymond Carver, a man who could never be mistaken for wacky. Director (and screenwriter) Dan Rush keeps Everything Must Go deceptively simple and quiet, like its lead. Like Nick, the movie has more on its mind that you’ll initially imagine. Nick’s troubles aren’t as clear-cut as we think. We learn more about the dissolution of his job and marriage as the film progresses. Although, don’t linger over what Nick’s doing out on the lawn too much. He’s there because he’s decided that’s his easiest solution. He’s stubborn, and maybe feeling guilty, and the yard is where he’s working it off. There’s a sweet, come-and-go subplot involving Nick’s budding friendship with his pregnant neighbor, played by Rebecca Hall, who is such a welcome presence in any movie. Over the past couple years, she’s become one of my favorite actors, always making an impact, often with little material. Hall fills her role with so much subtext, you could turn the cameras to the other side of the street and make another movie (maybe a better one) all about her character. Everything Must Go lags a bit, here and there, from lack of information, about both sides of the street.  Nick is visited periodically by Frank (Michael Pena), who is such a cipher it’s no surprise his character is withholding information from Nick and us. When it’s revealed, it’s both cruel and of little consequence. The main theme—Nick shedding his past by shedding his stuff—is the plot to keep your eye on, and it’s also the one that’s the most refreshingly undependable. Everything must go! Wait, don’t you need some of that stuff? Feeling better, though? Oh, okay then, everything out!

Ferrell’s buddy, John C. Reilly, also primarily works now in broad comedies, but leans more toward dark, peculiar characters. I was unsure about Cyrus on the outset, because of the potential for clichés in the plot: New guy comes between mother and son. I was also uneasy because of the Mumblecore history of the film’s creators, the Duplas brothers. I wanted to punch Baghead. The whole movie, with my fists. Surprisingly, Cyrus is a charming, funny movie, vulnerable and original.

John C. Reilly plays John, lonely, awkward, and back out in the dating world. He meets Molly (Marisa Tomei) at a party, and somehow makes lonely, awkward sparks fly. She’s happy and charismatic, and sees something in John, and they become friends. Once they’re more than friends, John gets to know Molly’s son, Cyrus (Jonah Hill). Cyrus is close to his mom, and possessive of their relationship, to the point of sabotaging any chance John might have with her. Things progress, at first, like they normally do in a movie, but then reality kicks in, and we get something so much more interesting and funny. Cyrus could easily have been a dumb thriller, or a lazy comedy, but it’s really special. Jealousy in Cyrus isn’t portrayed like a sociopathic disorder, but like a natural human emotion that’s hard to keep in check. Like Everything Must Go, Cyrus made me want its characters to find happiness. On the other hand, Cyrus is helped by not having Nick’s potentially shady past and self-destructiveness tainting the story. I didn’t like them in spite of anything; I just liked them. John C. Reilly belongs, I think, with Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Paul Giamatti in the group of character actors who make good leading men. I find he’s got less in his bag of tricks than those guys (meaning he mugs less. We can be honest here.), and thus has a shorter distance to travel in terms of gaining my trust and suspension of disbelief. Plus: Marisa Tomei. I can’t think of anyone better to cast as the character all the other characters love. Put her on Nick’s street, and he’d have a place to sleep for sure, or at least someone to help him jimmy the locks.

Everything Must Go: B

Cyrus: A