In "Greenburg," Ben Stiller plays a wastrill who is ill-tempered, mean-spirited, juvenile, self-absorbed and self-centered, guileless, insensitive, incurious, arrogant and, well, not much of a role model. I don't really blame Stiller for doing everything that's asked of him in what may be the most significant waste of time of any activity I've been involved in this year--and I hope it stays at this level because I'd hate to see what's below it.
Let's put the blame where it belongs: writer-director Noah Baumbach, who gives us a character we can all loathe: a useless man who relishes his role, who basks in carelessly and thoughtlessly hurting other people, who blames every shortcoming in his life on something other than himself, who lectures and writes letters to the editor without ever turning in a good minute of a useful life.
Why a movie like this is even seen by the public (I was drugged and dragged by my wife, who admitted to having made a serious mistake afterwards) is puzzling to me unless, as Christina says, "I was expecting something else" because the trailer hinted at a sensitive, lost little man searching for a breast to snuggle. Chick flick, maybe.
It ain't a chick flick or a dude flick or even a passable flick. Don't see it. Take my word for it: you can watch reruns of the "700 Club" right after 9/11 and come out better.