Film Review: "Hannah Takes the Stairs" (dir. Joe Swanberg)

There is no hiding the fact that about four months a year I get obsessed with the New Yorker. It becomes all I want to read and I want all of my friends to read it so we can stop discussing Gossip Girl. Or at the very least, discuss the article about Gossip Girl in the New Yorker. During one of my recent New Yorker phases, I was discussing a short story that dealt with a college aged Indian boy dealing with his widowed father's new ethnic wife and her two children with my date for evening. Initially impressed by her enthusiasm for my stuffy lit mag of choice, I was crushed when she told me that she didn't like the story at all. It wasn't because she thought it was poor written or boring; it was because in the stories' emotional payoff the lead character verbally lashes the two children. Although I didn't find this scene to be endearing on any level, it provided a release of emotions for a deeply saddened young man who was struggling with mortality, tradition and moving on from his mother's death. It didn't make the lead character a hero but it did make him human.

The greatest every comedy, Arrested Development was constantly criticized and subsequently cancelled because the characters were not likeable enough. Even 30 Rock was nitpicked for the show's initial mean streak, which was gradually adjusted throughout the first season through a deliberate humanization of the main characters.

Yet, there still remains a certain place in the general public's heart for total reckless abandon. No one seems to criticize Bukowski or Hunter S. Thompson's wanton decisions and Pete Doherty is (re)known(ed) in America only for his drug use and ramshackle relationships. Let's not even start on Amy Winehouse or the world's obsession with the mafia lifestyle and Grand Theft Auto.

What this says to me is that people can deal with bad decisions on a massive, life altering scale but have no tolerance for the kinds of bad decisions people make everyday. This seems tragic: there is much to be learned from watching flawed people make the kinds of mistakes you might make or conversely, the kinds of mistakes you'd never make.

After I watched Joe Swanberg's latest mumblecore film, Hannah Takes the Stairs, I did my typical internet research and found that it was both critically and "commercially" panned. If I am to believe the dozens of Netflix reviews that proclaimed that Hannah is the worst ever movie, the main reason seems to be that the title character is an unlikeable mess. And they aren't wrong. With her bleached pixie haircut and thin beautiful lips, Hannah (Greta Gerwig), is confused, confusing and at times, grating. She begins the movie jealous of her uninspired musician boyfriend Mike (Mark Duplass) and ends the movie playing the trumpet (not a metaphor) with a different (kind of) suitor, Matt (Kent Osbourne). Somewhere in the middle, she also dates Matt's partner, mumblecore's patron saint, Andrew Bujakski (playing Paul). Since the movie is less than 90 minutes, you see Hannah spend roughly 25 minutes with each suitor.

Throughout the movie Hannah makes the kinds of selfish day to day decisions that young people in America make every single day and yet, the film is derided for this authenticity. Hannah reminds me of so many friends that I've had over the years that jump from relationship to relationship, inexplicitly falling for different people everytime. She is the kind of person where her identity and happiness revolve around the person she is dating. At the same time, she seems to date people she admires, only to become petty and jealous when those traits don't seem to rub off on her. She is frustrated when she isn't as charming as Mike and seems to be drawn to Paul simply because he is an up and coming filmmaker.

Once the novelty of the handheld camerawork and improvised dialogue wears off, the viewer is left with another compelling drama about human relationships. While Mike is charming, the movie really belongs to Hannah and Paul since their entire relationship takes place on screen. As their office romance unfolds, their attraction, although unlikely, is understandable. Paul is bumbling, funny and his nonchalant attitude towards possible success is an aphrodisiac as old as the wheel. As the movie progresses and Hannah likes Paul less and less, the film seems to portray him as more unlikeable. Did he change or does the film's tone mirror Hannah's feelings for her suitors? Similarly, Matt seems like a crushing bore during the film's first half but warms up as Hannah's lust for him increases: while Matt once was droll and robotic he turns out to be quirky and disarming. Or perhaps Matt was initially droll towards Hannah and Paul due to his overwhelming jealousy of Hannah?

Unsurprisingly, none of the character's motivations are revealed, justified or forgiven, adding yet another layer of realism to an already emotionally barren film. In many ways, the three men's personalities are besides the point: Hannah is addicted to the lustful rush that comes with creating a connection but lacks the patience to take that connection anywhere significant. She is the polar opposite of Lola, the main character in Spike Lee's She's Gotta Have It! But rather than jump from man to man, Lola used many men she admired in different ways to create one "whole" relationship.

As an unabashed fan of mumblecore in both theory and execution, I can say that this film stands right next to Funny Ha Ha as one of the best of these films, although it never reaches the transcendence of Mutual Appreciation. There is a certain irony that most of the genre gets written off as lazy when this collaborative (almost all the actors are given some writing credit) team continues to buck every modern cinematic convention. Instead of using nudity as some shameful Apatowian joke, it's used in Hannah Takes the Stairs to convey intimacy. It's nice to watch a film that acknowledges the postmodern ritual of peeing in front of your significant without resorting to a punchline with the word "pubes" in it. Besides, it's refreshing to watch a movie where the covers aren't always conveniently placed, whether it be over body parts or the characters.