Serious Movie Lover

Time for a mental health break!

HANNAH TAKES THE STAIRS (DVD/2007) After watching a trailer for Noel Baumbach’s upcoming Greenberg (apparently he’s entered the male-midlife-crisis-exploration–era of his career—proceed with caution, Noel) I was curious about vaguely familiar featured actress Greta Gerwig. Apparently she’s one of the more high-profile actors from the “mumblecore” film movement—a term that immediately struck fear in my heart and dry heaves in the rest of me. Described as low budget D.I.Y. affairs with mostly improvised relationship-y dialogue by 20-somethings (and at about 2 years old, considered dead and buried by many critics), it sounds pretty much like your worst emo nightmare. But assuming there are clever participants, this could possibly be interesting, you say? You are wrong! At less than 90 minutes, Hannah Takes the Stairs, starring Gerwig as our titular, um, hero, is drudgery. I required frequent mental health breaks to make it all the way through—sighing loudly, engaging in soothing deep breathing exercises, and popping off a few pushups. I highly recommend this! (NOT the movie. It is terrible.)

I am starting a movement to require quick IQ test before actors are allowed to improvise. Won’t you join me?

The central conflict consists of: Will Hannah stick with charisma-free dude #1 or move on to charmless dude #2? Or perhaps she’ll take up with underdog #3, who gets her attention by scrunching up his stomach to look “like a pack of hot dogs” (SPOILER ALERT: looks more like uncooked breadsticks). Suspense! Emotional investment! (I felt neither of those things!)

The director obviously has great confidence in Gerwig’s charm to carry the entire movie, though she (or at least her character) seems devoid of any, striking me as the most popular girl in the room because she’s the most decidedly vulnerable girl in the room. You know her—she has self-cut/dyed hair, talks to men in a little girl voice about how people never really listen to each other, has vague arty aspirations, and totally sucks? I have spent so many eye-rolls on this girl, and many of my (male) friends have pretended to be fascinated by the hours of work that go into her handmade pocket shrines. Though she plows through boyfriends weekly, her snivel-y revelations like “I have chronic dissatisfaction” and “I tend to leave destruction in my wake” are absurdly embarrassing coming from someone who left her turbulent teens behind so long ago. And really, I can deem any amount of dorm room whining acceptable if it rises just above the level of “stoned retard.” Even the most dumbass dumbasses on Facebook don’t flirt with each other through Slinkys. (Although if a Conversation-Via-Slinky app does suddenly appear, well, you’re welcome.) The characters are shallow to the point of being personality-free, with no interests other than vague mentions of writing blogs and plays. I’ve had more captivating conversations while washing my hands in a public restroom.

In the final scene, a real wrist-slitter, Hannah plays a nude off-key trumpet duet in the tub with fella #3, further accompanied by his withered limpy floating dead in the water—a poignant metaphor for the proud parade of flaccid tools stinking up the preceding 83 minutes. One could easily go mad trying to understand why this blink-and-you-missed-it genre garnered so much attention (wild guess: naked ladies? For shame, David Denby), but at least it’s dead, right? Let’s delete its Wikipedia page and pretend it was all a fever dream.

Grade: F you, mumblecorps.

Grade if I were a film student: F (with pants soiled in outrage over the attention this boner brigade received for their “movement.” Arrgh!)

Tags greta gerwig, hannah takes the stairs, mumblecore, the worst