The eponymous character of Alex Ross Perry’s Listen Up Philip, played by Jason Schwartzman, is a promising young novelist, but also the most needy, selfish, miserable bastard on the face of the earth. Actually, that’s not true. Philip has an elder mentor named Ike Zimmerman (Jonathan Pryce, channeling Philip Roth) who’s just like him, only 30 years older and more successful. (Despite Ike’s greater success, he’s still jealous of Philip—of his youth, of all the women he is yet to bed, even of the fact that he’s been named to one of those “35 Under 35” lists. “You won a National Book Award when you were 32!” Philip counters. “True,” Ike says with a shrug.)
The movie has the breezy, quasi-documentary style we’ve seen in some Woody Allen films. It’s narrated, with wonderful deadpan sarcasm, by Eric Bogosian, who gives us insight into what’s going on in Philip’s head, as well as that of Philip’s put-upon girlfriend Ashley (Elizabeth Moss), and others.
The film reminded me of two other recent works of art. First, Noah Baumbach’s Greenberg, about a once-promising man (Ben Stiller), whose bitterness has made him utterly toxic to those around him. Also, Adelle Waldman’s wonderful novel The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P, about a young writer who was only happy when others around him failed and who was searching for that perfect trophy wife—one who was wild in bed, great at a cocktail party, and would prop him up, make him look better. But Nathaniel P, selfish and socially grasping as he was, also had moments of wit and charm. Greenberg was a failure, so his horribleness at least felt justified. Philip’s awfulness, however, just seems like pure self-involvement.
Also, and maybe this is just naiveté on my part: But can a great artist, or even a good one—it’s never clear which one Philip is—be totally lacking in empathy? It seems to me that the ability to see the world from perspectives other than your own, or at the very least to be curious about perspectives other than your own, is an essential quality for a writer. Philip, however, is only interested in himself.
The other big question: Who would want to be around such a creep? I understand that talent and success is its own kind of turn-on. But no self-respecting person would go near Philip with a 10-foot pole. And yet, beautiful, successful women keep falling for him. The only woman who seems to recognize how truly awful he is is Ike’s daughter, Melanie (Krysten Ritter). Of course, she’s had some experience with the type.
Philip is not just selfish, he’s cruel. In one scene, a woman he’s dating has the temerity to feel a bit sorry for herself. To snap her out of it, he tells her a horrible story from his childhood. No one is allowed to be as miserable as he is.
Despite this, I liked parts of Listen Up, Philip. I’m a sucker for literary movies that are set in NY and on leafy college campuses (Philip takes a job as the world’s worst creative writing teacher). And all the acting is great, especially Schwartzman, Moss, and Pryce. But even mitigated by generous amounts of humor, the film’s negativity becomes a drain. Turns out toxic people can be as tiresome in the movies as they are in real life.
Listen Up, Philip is available On Demand.