All That and Baghead, Too

[Edit note: I’ve corrected the egregious and downright fucking insulting error of referring to the filmmakers as “Dumass,” rather than the correct and far more agreeable “Duplass.” With apologies. I’m a dumass.]

Want to see an uncommonly good mumblecore movie? Check out Baghead, hot from the 2008 festival circuit and now available on DVD.





I’ve seen it twice now and figured I’d share my thoughts.

The premise: two guys and two girls hole themselves up in a cabin in the woods to write a screenplay, only to be menaced by a guy with a bag over his head.

I know; you want to stop reading right now. Such thematic brilliance, you’re thinking, with all the sarcasm you can muster. Yeah, like I’ve never seen that before.

But, do yourself a favor: disregard the tired plot device of the stalker in the woods and just focus on what unfolds between the characters—who bring along enough drama to fill the Grand Canyon—while they aren’t being harassed. The Duplass brothers, Jay and Mark, shot Baghead on mini-DV for about a grand, and, for about three-quarters of it, give us: a merciless, unrequited love; pity sex and cruel intimations of relationship reconciliation; a tenuous bromance; a secret crush; and even a session of surreptitious, if not satisfactory, masturbation that had me laughing out loud. Oh, and there’s plenty of drinking, foul language, and an obligatory (real) boob shot, if that’s your thing.

Let me be clear: I’m not promising you great art here; far from it. Baghead is amateur, rather than auteur. But, I was absorbed by the clever, quick-witted dialogue (largely improvised, I'm assuming) and the natural, unadorned actors (Ross Partridge, Steve Zissis, Greta Gerwig and Elise Muller) that deliver it with an effortless ease of everyday conversation. The characters are a little (just a little) smarter than the usual conventions of a script like this one, and it's a hell of a lot of fun to watch when their threads get tangled up. (A few moments are even uncomfortable, particularly when the pathetic and balding Chad finally decides to open his heart to the oblivious Michelle.)

The introduction of the baghead seems an odd non-sequitur, given the build-up of the characters and their story lines. Odd, that is, until the denouement, which comes across as a cheat and left me completely underwhelmed. Our four victims act as perfunctorily—and stupidly— as they should when attacked. And when our stalker pulls a knife on the group, he swings it like a prison tranny, which ain’t pretty (so I’m told—I’ve no personal experience). He isn’t scary, or creepy, and, with the exception of a few well-lit shots of shadow-lurking at a window, comes across as a guy who seems like he walked on to the wrong movie set. Now that I think about it, this is two different movies entirely, with the better Big Chill version working desperately to extricate itself from the weary, direct-to-DVD Friday the 13th rehashes.

Technically, the movie does nothing to transcend extreme independent cinema. But the Duplass boys know how to frame a close-up and the editing is tight. They take liberal advantage of the verite shaky cam, but, mercifully, manage to keep it steady enough so as not to induce vomit.

But, like I said, this movie is all about the characters, so put your focus on them. You may be surprised to find yourself fascinated by their sordid shenanigans. Obtrusive baghead stalker aside, this movie is a hatchet-throw further than most of its kind.

Give it a shot.