7 Chinese Brothers

This film is a case study on why film criticism exists, to separate the chaff of it from the wheat it pretends as.

Neither an evolution nor simulcrum of Lost in Translation, Office Space, or Bottle Rocket, this extended screen test of Jason Schwartzman inhabiting deep suburban environs as a narcissist layabout was likely pitched to distributors as a mashup of all three.

Writer-director Bob Byington begins with an old R.E.M. song, 7 Chinese Brothers. This song, from the band's Reckoning album, was naught but a prank; it was Michael Stipe singing the liner notes to a random gospel LP he'd found laying around, which the studio engineer mistakenly recorded, and which the band, finding the track's accidental provenance hilarious, formed into a nondescript, mildly jangly tune.

Does this near non-song by R.E.M. inform Byington's film in any measure? No, except that he cues the song at the end credits so that the key grips might have a mildly jangly ruffle and flourish behind their accrediture.

From the song Byington derives the title, and upon the meaningless title Byington builds no story whatsoever, and by no story I mean not even a Seinfeldian non-story proposition.

Jason Schwartzman is the lead as "Larry." Schwartzman, who is a celebrity and a very good actor, and who might perpetually attract some long-tail audience interested in watching him do anything--say, selling peanuts in a ballpark vendor's uniform-- for a duration of 76 minutes, is required by Byington to move in and out of bland sets (a quik lube garage, a dingy convenience store) and make slight actions (throw a hat at a Mazda, deny your grandmother a sip from a Big Gulp) that are supposed to stand in for the plot or un- plot as it were. Nothing worth filming, nothing that would be worth filming by students, is there.

These are petty crimes against cinema Byington is caught at, but that should be no taint against Schwartzman, who screen tests as plumly as ever, or indeed against Tunde Adebimpe or Eleanor Pienta, who check in as friendly companions who join us in wondering just what is supposed to be fascinating about a character who is simultaneously so self-possessed and so lacking in initiative of thought, credible emotion, or stirrings.

Rather than screening this movie, Schwartzman enthusiasts are better off hunting down Hotel Chevalier and spending the time gained from unspent viewing balancing their checkbooks.

Larry (Jason Schwartzman) is a slacker with little ambition. He works a menial job at the oil change garage. He has his dog. He is joined by his grandmother (Olympia Dukakis). His friend Major Norwood gets him his drugs.

It's Schwartzman doing his slacker thing. For his fans, this may be interesting. Indie filmmaker Robert Byington is not strictly mumblecore. His dialog is not mumble but it has much of the indie sensibilities. In the end, there isn't much going on with this character. It's hard to tell if he cares or is he just scared like when he runs out on a sure thing with a girl. It makes it hard to care about him.

As I overheard someone going out of its showing at the Traverse City Film Festival saying "That was fricking torture." A story about an unlikable slacker going nowhere, the movie is filled with people uttering painfully unfunny lines. At first the packed theater politely laughed and by the end of this pointless 75 minutes the audience was dead silent (or asleep). I won't dwell on the plot because there is none. Sorry if I sound angry but it was a wasted evening and $24 for my wife and me.

How sad that Olympia Dukakis has let herself sink to the level of appearing in a movie this banal. Jason Schwartzman's pug Arrow is the only star that earned his pay.

Stay away. (2/10)

Jason Schwartzman is one of those actors whose films you generally either love or maybe kind of hate. 7 Chinese Brothers (2015) is a film that is definitely no exception, but for those of us who are fans, it hits the mark head on. The film is a character study of Larry, a 30- something slacker and all around aimless weirdo ambling through his days trying to keep himself amused. The brainchild of director Bob Byington, this strange character loses his job at a restaurant after being caught stealing booze from the bar into his big gulp, only to find himself at war with the restaurant manager in an absurd ongoing battle that amusingly recurs throughout the film. Larry spends the bulk of his time discussing life with his lethargic boston terrier Arrow, Schwartzman's real-life dog and real-deal star of the show. Arrow is hilariously nonplussed and adorably immortalized in this film - his sedate screen presence as well as the evident bond between him and his owner contributes immeasurably to the tone of the film and the character, as well as its overall charm.

This film is low on actual plot lines, but there are a number of other characters with whom Larry interacts during his day to day. His best friend Major, played by TV On The Radio frontman Babatunde Adebimpe, helps to ground the antics of our main character, but his lucky life also serves to make stark the unlucky fortune of the far more everyday and unremarkable Larry. Olympia Dukakis is flawless as Larry's grandmother and voice of reason, with whom his self-concerned attitude makes itself evident early in the film. So while little of note actually happens throughout the film, we have ample opportunity to explore the recesses of this odd character's mind as well as watch his gradual arch towards some personal growth. The film's camera-work is primarily that shaky, hand-held feel that's currently relentlessly popular in this style of film. Byington really makes viewers feel as though they're following Larry around and watching him mess up, be erratic, and embarrass himself real-time. The camera is right in Schwartzman's face through the majority of the film so his acting had to be spot on to carry this film, and he succeeds in being both comically on-point and pointedly Larry at all times. The character never slips once while the audience eats up all of his bizarre habits, like imitating a fat kid getting out of a pool on every possible countertop, as only Schwartzman delivers this signature kind of absurdity with his particular sort of grace.

7 Chinese Brothers is strange, it's meandering, and it's even a little bit boring at times. It is possible that critics of Schwartzman could suggest that this sort of character exploration is just another means to show off and glorify that thing that he does, that quirky indie, alternative film thing for which Jason Schwartzman is sort of the posterboy. While we sat in the theater and the film came to a close, my partner even turned to me and just said "I don't get it, what is this movie about?" And that's the thing, it's not really about anything in particular. There's no genius, deep message in this storyline; while there's an element of wanting to connect and find a sort of joie de vivre here, these themes are dominated by just the sheer wandering into the character that dominates the screen time. Yet its richness can be found in the experience of watching an artist create a character that audiences simply want to watch. These are the sorts of ideas from which cult films spring, where there's just something that hooks you and reels you in about the world created by those involved in its production. This is what Jason Schwartzman is really good at and here Bob Byington has successfully crafted a memorable space that allowed him to do his thing delightfully. 7 Chinese Brothers is just right for those that found themselves psyched just on seeing its advertisement, and you know who you are. If you aren't one of those people, maybe you could just go to see Arrow in all his drowsy glory.

Friday night of this week, my friend, DF, got a bowl of Paomo at what I determine to be a very good Chinese restaurant. Upon receiving the brothy meat with breed, he noted that the smell was something between garbage and vaginal. He ate three quarters of the bowl and when we walked later in the night, he kept logging higher levels of dream-like status. Barring the full range of after-effects, 7 Chinese Brothers was sort of like the soup: smelled rank, I ate it anyway, and left feeling sort of tired.

Comedy? This one was reaching for dolorous, had a few risible moments a la the man and his dog plot line, and then wound down.