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Written by Pete Timmermann Thursday, 01 July 2010 08:37

Reilly reminds us once again in this scene that as an actor he’s capable of anything.

Given the way that Fox Searchlight has been plastering advertisements for Cyrus all over everywhere, it seems pretty safe to assume that they think it’s going to be big. Sure, it has several name actors in it—John C. Reilly, Marisa Tomei, Catherine Keener (previous Oscar nominees/winners, all)—but it is essentially a small film, made on about a $7 million budget, by two of the less-talented stalwarts of the mumblecore movement, Jay and Mark Duplass (The Puffy Chair, Baghead). To support Fox’s aggressive ad campaign, I can attest to the fact that Cyrus is indeed quite funny, and based on the way it played to the audience I saw it with, it will very likely be big, perhaps even crossing over into the multiplex set.

That isn’t to say that it is all that good, though. I don’t mean to appear to be waffling—I did enjoy it, and it is funny, but it is pretty poorly made and not very satisfying when all is said and done. Pretty much the entirety of the success of the film rests on the shoulders of its leads, and none of its success come from the marginal script or subpar filming techniques of the Duplass brothers.

Cyrus’ premise is that sad sack John (Reilly), who has never really gotten over his ex-wife Jamie (Keener), meets and falls for the way-out-of-his-league Molly (Tomei), who seems to return his infatuation. This seems odd, given how attractive and sane Molly seems. Soon he finds that she doesn’t get out of the house much on account of her clingy, creepy grown son Cyrus (Jonah Hill, doing the best work he’s done since 2007), and it isn’t long before Cyrus is trying to passive-aggressively, and then just aggressively, ruin John and Molly’s relationship.

To illustrate the dichotomy between the script and filmmaking versus the actors, take an early scene in the movie, which takes place at a house party and is where John and Molly meet. John’s drunk out of his gourd and runs away from the requisite meet-cute with Molly to dance to Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me.” Reilly reminds us once again in this scene that as an actor he’s capable of anything—drama, comedy, both at once, anything in between—and him drunkenly dancing and singing along to “Don’t You Want Me” while trying unsuccessfully to get the rest of the party to join him is virtually unmatched in how funny and awkward it is, and that in this time when everyone is trying for the funny/awkward laugh. But then the near-perfect scene has to go and be ruined by Molly coming in and “saving” John by dancing and singing with him, and then all of the other revelers deciding it’s okay after all and joining in, too. It goes from excellent to unbelievable and stupid in just seconds, and also points at one of the biggest holes in the movie in the process—despite her not getting out of the house much, there is still pretty much no way that Molly would be interested in John, who is a drunken loser who she has no reason to be attracted to in the first place, who then blows her off to show his ass at the party, and then who she again makes a play for, this time in front of everyone.

This is basically a metaphor for the whole movie. Moments in it feel absolutely great, but it isn’t long before they are watered down with poor choices, so you almost forget how much you were enjoying the film seconds before. | Pete Timmermann