3 hours ago
10
Jesse Eisenberg’s last two directorial efforts – the prickly comedy When You Finish Saving the World and the slightly softer A Real Pain – are small films rooted in the real world. They have their little idiosyncrasies, their bits of cinematic flair, but they keep their feet grounded in the here and now. For his third film, Eisenberg has said goodbye to all that (or most of that) and run headlong at the surreal and the absurd, borrowing from Charlie Kaufman and other oddballs to tell a small story in a big way.
The Debut is about a repressed housewife, Mona (Julianne Moore), who decides to audition for a role in a community theater production of a musical called Nosy Neighbors, one of those gassy Manhattan trifles that were so ubiquitous on Broadway a half century ago. Mona’s kids are about to fly the nest, and her husband barely seems to notice her when she’s standing right next to him. So why not have a little creative adventure?
From that setup, Eisenberg could have gone to the obvious place, staging a sweet dramedy about a humble act of artistic expression opening Mona’s eyes to all the possibility of life outside her little bubble. He does do that, in part, but he also wants to take things to a darker place. The film gradually morphs into a study of actorly obsession and vanity, as Mona takes the Stanislavksi-esque teachings of the play’s director, Jerry (Paul Giamatti, doing his wearily charming thing), to extremes perhaps not seen since Black Swan. That’s a clever idea: a director watching in horror as the monster he’s created threatens to lay waste to his production.
The trouble is, none of this, not the nice story of blossoming passion, nor the acidic satire of pretentious artistes, unfolds in an environment that looks and feels anything like the dimension all of us are currently living in. Eisenberg has unrooted the film in time – there is lots of 1980s decor, but some more modern clothing; we see nary a cellphone, but there is no other specific period detail – and has his characters behave in archly cartoonish fashion.
A movie needn’t be situated in plain reality, of course. But Eisenberg is inconsistent in his quirky abstraction. The Debut toggles too frequently between recognizable humanity and the mores and attitudes of whatever other-place Eisenberg has invented. Which undercuts both the parody and the pathos; without a reliable reference point, it’s hard to know what, exactly, we are meant to think and feel about anything happening on screen. Or, rather, it’s hard to connect to the sentiment that, I’m surmising, Eisenberg is trying to get across: a wry and bleary appreciation for the thrill and risk and silliness and beauty of making art.
Still, it is fascinating to watch Eisenberg expand his purview like this, taking a swing at the grand and busy techniques of marquee film-makers like Kaufman, like Ari Aster, like Alejandro González Iñárritu. He shows an aptitude for ornate visuals, his camera ceaselessly moving as we are whisked around the theater and down the grimier avenues of Mona’s curious journey outside of herself. Eisenberg sets a quick pace early on and manages to sustain that energy for the duration. By the end of the picture, we really do feel that we’ve traveled somewhere, that all of the film’s relentless motion and noise has given us some kind of full-bodied experience.
But I suspect none of that would be possible without the invaluable presence of Julianne Moore, enjoying one of the most substantial, dynamic film roles she’s had in a long time. She attacks each scene with the breakneck vigor that first endeared her to audiences, in 1990s films like Boogie Nights and Magnolia. And she’s often a riot, knowing just how to make Mona’s mounting melodrama and histrionics funny without tipping it all into hammy slapstick. It’s a thrilling performance, even when Eisenberg seems to have lost his hold on the reins. Maybe there’s a kind of accidental tribute in that, a director finding the right leading lady to hold things together until the production rights itself.
Oh, and Moore can sing! Which I guess we sort of knew from her turn in the grisly film adaptation of Dear Evan Hansen. She fares far better here. The music in The Debut will be one of its nerdy selling points, for theater geeks eager to kick the tires of this made-up musical and assess whether it’s credible as a show that could have once existed. Eisenberg wrote the songs himself, and I think they mostly pass the test. Though, what does it ultimately matter, when the film takes place nowhere and at no time in particular? Nothing needs to add up, really, because the film is forever inventing its own rules.
That does get frustrating as The Debut unfolds; true investment proves difficult when what we’re watching could arbitrarily change shape at any moment. But at least there is Moore to rely on, whipping up a floridly tragicomic storm. She once again reminds us of her boggling range and tenacity, reaching for things that many other actors might timidly think well beyond their grasp. It’s become a trite word to use about acting, but Moore’s work in the film is at times downright fearless. She careens toward embarrassment, courts the wreckage of a bold choice flopping, and somehow comes up shining. Not every actor can do that – but, as any wannabe thespian with a dream can tell you, man is it fun to try.
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The Debut is screening at the Toronto film festival and will be released in US cinemas on 11 December, in Australia on 25 December and in the UK on 15 January
