Does Fox Searchlight have their first bonafide hit of the year on their hands? Absolutely and without question. Their latest picture, “Cyrus,” a dysfunctional family portrait cum love-triangle starring Jonah Hill, John C. Reilly and Marissa Tomei is an indie hit waiting to happen. You’ve already heard the unanimous glowing praise from Sundance — which is for once, justified, the thin air can seemingly delude folks occasionally, as evinced in past years — and “mumblecore” directors Mark & Jay Duplass (“The Puffy Chair,” “Baghead”) have finally graduated to the main stage of the pop mainstream; filmmaking that is heartbreaking, laugh out loud funny, emotionally textured and at times creepy and dark. It’s seriously a hit waiting to happen and it’s just a matter whether audiences respond to it or not.
Yes, the inclusion of trained, “real” actors like Reilly, Tomei and Hill likely elevate the material — some of it obviously improvised — but the Duplass Brothers have unquestionably perfected their craft and taken their awkwardness proficiency to a whole new level.
Immediately charming and engaging to an almost uncanny level, “Cyrus” centers on John C. Reilly’s John, a dejected sad-sack 40-something on the verge of a breakdown. His ex-wife (Catherine Keener) has patiently and somewhat unfathomably nursed him through his woes, checking up on the depressed man for years after their divorce, much to the chagrin of her new fiancee (excellent comedian character actor Matt Walsh). The news of their engagement devastates John and already in a tailspin, it appears things are only going to get worse. And the Duplass brothers must have made a deal with the devil to negotiate tone, because these sections — and the entire film for that matter — perfectly ace the pitch of melancholy, darkness and comedy.
To assist the ailing John, his understanding ex-wife, and her vexed, but tolerant husband-to-be, take him to a party to meet girls. Predictably, it’s a hilarious trainwreck (John C. Reilly shines with his unbridled knack for riffing, but it’s all still carefully calibrated, character-forward improvisation), but while classily urinating in the bushes, the drunken man meets cute with the beguiling and strangely empathetic Molly (Marisa Tomei).
Not only do they quickly strike up a friendship at the party, but by the end of the evening they wind up in bed and a blossoming relationship starts to flourish almost instantaneously. To cut to the chase, their whirlwind, yet, very organic romance hits a major curb at the revelation and existence of Molly’s 21-year-old son, Cyrus (Jonah Hill), a sweet, thoughtful young man, who soon reveals himself to be a borderline psychopath, crippled in arrested development, and knee-deep in an unhealthy co-dependent relationship with his doting mother.
Of course, the film actually unravels their can’t-cut-the-umbilical-strings dynamic carefully and thoughtfully and John soon realizes he has a genuine obstacle and problem on his hands. As their relationship grows stronger, Cyrus’ insecurities and fears begin to develop into pathological and disturbing anxieties that manifest themselves as creepy and outrageously funny manipulations and conniving tactics meant to cockblock John from his mother, and vice versa. The young man, possibly an agoraphobic and grappling with several lack of identity issues, is essentially terrified of losing his one true connection in the world, and its this kind of genuine psychological hurt that grounds “Cyrus” in a dramatic domain that makes it a deep and resonating experience beyond simple comedy.
Suffice to say the journey of this story from inception to conclusion is mannered, hilarious, painful to watch and at times incredibly and unexpectedly subtle. All three actors are firing on all cylinders. Jonah Hill delivers the most contoured performance in his career — again, evincing several tenors with ease and a remarkably sad earnestness — while John C. Reilly is hysterical and yet effortless in his dark and genuinely bitter sequences, and Marisa Tomei is the connective fabric that keeps the two disparate characters together.
Using their documentarian, fly-on-the-wall approach, the Duplass brothers’ lens is reminiscent of “Husbands and Wives” and the conceit of the picture almost feels like a modern day Woody Allen concept. “Cyrus” affectingly vacillates between near-broad, ridiculous comedy to dark, tasty emotional centers, but impressively never loses its way or sense of self.
Another utter treat in the dramedy is the nimble and dolorously-tinged score by Michael Andrews (“Me And You And Everyone We Know,” “Funny People”) which, much like the picture, balances and evokes charm, dreamy romance and spritely effervescence (Jon Brion, seriously watch your back, this guy is gunning for your indie-score throne; and score enthusiasts note, it’s Andrews’ best score since the aforementioned Miranda July film which is a decade favorite of ours).
Again, whether “Cyrus” connects broadly with wide audiences will be up to marketing and the zeitgeist gods, but it has all the potential to dominate like the films of the 2007 Indian Summer of Apatow’s peak. And yet, the picture does not feel like an Apatow project. It’s distinctly a Duplass product and better for it.
Intoxicatingly sweet, endearingly amusing and pricelessly dark in spots, “Cyrus” is an infinitely entertaining experience and is easily the most enjoyable and crowd-pleasing picture of the year. It’s also — 2010 films that we saw last year, notwithstanding — the best picture of the year so far. Don’t mistake that for hyperbole, this distinction will certainly change later in the year, it’s inevitable but let this charming and wonderfully enlivening picture have its day in the sun for now. [A]
