Imagine an ordinary suburb somewhere in the American Midwest, sometime in the past, present or future. It’s an idyllic place that could be absolutely anywhere – yet, there’s something strange about this community. The adults all wear braces on their teeth for undisclosed reasons, residents drive golf carts through the streets lined with identical houses, and everyone seems far too happy. We’re introduced to Jill (Jocelyn DeBoer), who is happily married to Nick (Beck Bennett), living with her two children, one of which she gives to her friend, Lisa (Dawn Luebbe) simply on a whim, because everyone deserves to know the feeling of having a baby. What Jill doesn’t realize is this event serves to be the catalyst for a gradual decline in how she perceives the community she was so proud of to call her home – suddenly, the artificiality of suburban life, and the inauthenticity that everyone lives their lives by begin to slowly grind away at Jill, who starts to see beneath the green grass and neat homes, there is a very sinister set of secrets that not only don’t destroy the community, but rather bolsters it through deception and malice, with the underlying despair of life causing Jill to realize that there is a deeper meaning to this seemingly-perfect society, and beneath the whimsy, there lurks something far more disconcerting.

Greener Grass, the directorial debut from Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe, is the rare kind of film that confuses the viewer above everything else, mainly because the immediate reaction after seeing it is to wonder if it’s either a subversive, hilarious piece of postmodern fiction, or a dreadful jumble of strange ideas executed without any precision or tact. It’s a film that is, above everything else, just deeply bewildering, and you could argue this is part of the charm of the piece, one that seems to be heavily informed by a sense of deep, uncompromising insanity. Ultimately, what makes Greener Grass work so well is that beneath the deranged story, there is a satire that is more potent and impactful than most films that try and look at similar ideas. Occurring at the four-point intersection of filmmakers like David Lynch, Todd Solondz, John Waters and Wes Anderson, it sees a duo of newcomers crafting one of the most potent suburban satires of recent years, one that might not always work, but is perpetually interesting and outright hilarious at quite a regular pace. It is by no means a film that everyone will enjoy – in fact, the awkward and uncomfortable execution of the film makes this a profoundly unsettling experience that will alienate just as many viewers as those that find it absolutely brilliant. I’m still completely unsure of where I personally stand on this film, other than acknowledging that it is unlike anything ever seen before.

There’s a certain question that needs to be asked after watching this film: is Greener Grass too much? I’d argue this is where the divide around this film would naturally lie, because it all depends on how each individual views this film. DeBoer and Luebbe are making their directorial debut here, so they are relatively untested when it comes to knowing how skilled they are as filmmakers, and there isn’t much to judge this film from in terms of their previous work, outside of sporadic acting appearances (most notably, DeBoer in a pivotal supporting role in Thunder Road, another equally audacious independent film, directed by Jim Cummings, who has a memorable cameo here as well). The film is the kind that doesn’t lend itself to one dominant opinion over the other – this is a perfectly polarizing film that will mean something different depending on who’s watching it. It all comes down to whether or not you find this kind of absurdity charming, or even funny in the first place. Those with a penchant for the more surreal, awkward comedy normally seen on Adult Swim or underlying alternative comedy will likely be delighted by Greener Grass, which seems to have been made from the perspective of being as off-the-wall as possible. For those seeking out more intelligent comedy, or rather the kind that seems to have some structure, it’s possible that this could be the most insufferable experience possible, because this is a truly inorganic blend of ideas that don’t always converge in a way that demonstrates any attention to pacing or tone, which are two pivotal elements in a successful comedy. Everything here depends on the viewer’s willingness to surrender themselves to the often ludicrous satire that Luebbe and DeBoer present to us, and it’s often in the moments where it makes the least sense and feels the most chaotic, that the film tends to work the most.

The problem with Greener Grass is that it seems to lack a clear sense of what it wants to be saying – it often feels like an attempt to make an effective suburban satire, one that aligns itself far more with the more unsettling entries into the genre, such as The Stepford Wives and Blue Velvet, but unfortunately without much of the tact that made those kinds of films so effective. The thesis statement of the film is almost entirely absent – it’s often just a jumble of ideas, sewn together by the most absurd subplots imaginable. Less of a coherent story, and more a series of vignettes demonstrating the eccentric residents of this seemingly-perfect suburb, the film often falters when others tend to soar – the satire is weaker than usual, and the ideas this film is working from seem to be disregarded when it comes to being a well-crafted comedy. It doesn’t dismiss the fact that Greener Grass has many merits, but they’re sometimes distracted by the film’s tendency to not know where to aim. It’s clear that Luebbe and DeBoer are neophytes, as they somehow simultaneously try and be both broad and niche in tone and scope. We can condense the biggest flaw in this film as simply being the inability for it to decide whether it wants to be endearing or uncomfortable, and while these are certainly not mutually exclusive, it takes a lot more than just some absurd images woven together to convey this very tricky tone.

Yet, we also just can’t deny that when Greener Grass finds it’s rhythm, it’s exceptionally funny, flourishing into a deliriously strange dark comedy that may be a bit rough around the edges, but is still extremely charming, even if it doesn’t fully realize all of its potential. This is a twisted dark comedy masquerading as a suburban melodrama, a form of overly intense soap opera that understands how ludicrous it actually is, and responds by sinking further into unhinged absurdity. This is not the subversive, elegant comedy that lampoons society in intelligent ways – it’s a broad, disconcerting snapshot of a chaotic society, one bound together by artificiality and insincerity, which are used to create the illusion of homely comfort – and of course, there is some more profound cultural commentary simmering below the surface, but it’s never quite notable enough to detract from the relentless silliness of this film. Luebbe and DeBoer go to great extents to create an unforgettable film, and in many ways, they seem to be embracing their status as newcomers to the industry by focusing on the parts of the film that make it memorable, rather than trying to create the definitive suburban satire. Greener Grass is a very funny film, but just one that lacks a lot of direction, and there are a few elements of the story that could’ve easily been admitted for the sake of coherency and in order to allow the film to follow some of its more interest plot threads, realizing them with more tact, which could’ve made this film a true cult classic.

Ultimately, Greener Grass is not a film that should be taken very seriously – DeBoer and Luebbe are essentially two exciting voices in independent cinema that opted to adapt an acclaimed short film they had previously made, purely for the intention of having fun, which is perhaps the best way to describe this film: enjoyable, good-natured chaos made by two filmmakers trying to find a place in an industry that can benefit massively from their unique perspective. It’s a silly but endearing comedy that never thinks too much of itself and rather chooses to be a more engaging example of contemporary satire, whereby it isn’t biting commentary that entertains us, but rather the unimpeachable stupidity that often goes amiss in more intelligent work. It’s going to be interesting to watch the directors grow, because their approach to this film demonstrates that they definitely have talent, and with some slight refinement to their style, and a more focused approach to how they tell a story, there’s very little doubt that Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe are going to go far, especially because they embody pure, unhinged energy and originality that is desperately needed. Greener Grass is a heavily flawed film, but one that feels increasingly necessary, because the relentless awkwardness of the film harbours a very deep understanding of the human condition, and while it doesn’t manifest particularly well here, the potential is there, with an excellent premise and the scrappy conviction to get it done – and sometimes that means just as much, if not more, than the final product.