We all yearn to find someone who truly understands us, and while most of the time we tend to view this person as being a romantic partner, any kind of spiritual companion is welcome, particularly when it comes to someone who tends to see the world in the same way that we do. In the instances where we may come across these people, we have to do whatever it takes to nurture that relationship, since they can leave our lives faster than they enter. This is a concept that Jay Duplass uses as the foundation for The Baltimorons, his first directorial outing without his brother Mark (who is still involved as an executive producer), and which he co-wrote with Michael Strassner, who also stars as the film’s lead. The story follows Cliff, who has spent the last six months processing the aftermath of a botched suicide attempt, as well as officially reaching six months of sobriety, a milestone that he realises should make him proud, but which he still struggles to handle, since it reflects a very dark time in his life. On his way to a Christmas Eve celebration with his fiancée’s family, there’s a minor mishap that sends Cliff searching for a dentist, which initially seems like a fool’s errand until he encounters Didi, who is just dedicated enough to agree to treat him, despite being on her way to her own Christmas Eve event. A series of further complications leads the pair on a set of adventures, during which time they manage to bond, realising that they have more in common than they initially expected – and that there may just be a spark lingering beneath the surface. A charming, captivating little comedy that sees Duplass prove his skill as a solo director, retaining much of the same approach that he and his brother used in their collaborations, telling a story that is simultaneously tender and blisteringly funny, particularly in how it provides a fascinating glimpse into the lives of two individuals battling their own personal demons, turning their unexpected friendship into one of the year’s most quietly moving comedies, and a film that proves that independent cinema is still capable of surprising us when given the opportunity.

The premise that guides The Baltimorons seems extraordinarily simple in theory – two people who are different in every possible way (ranging from their profession and age, to their temperament, interests and overall life experiences) meet each other in less-than-ideal circumstances, after which they seem to be unable to get rid of one another, their awkward misadventures turning into a genuine friendship as their time together becomes less of an inconvenience. Structurally, Duplass makes some very interesting choices – the film is set on a single day, which immediately adds layers of stakes and restricts it to a specific time frame, which is often a meaningful way to create organic, effective character development. The thematic content is not entirely revolutionary, but it never claims to be – instead, it functions as the context around which the film builds some fascinating conversations surrounding concepts such as friendship and cross-generational relationships (the film is very interested in exploring the dynamic between an older woman being quietly swept off her feet by a much younger man, but do so in a way that is elegant and charming, rather than aiming for the low-hanging fruit), while also undercutting it with themes such as loneliness, mental health and addiction, all of which are even more difficult to navigate during the holidays, where they often tend to be amplified in ways that can be truly harrowing. Duplass has always had a fascination with the human condition, and this film underlines so much of his curiosity, particularly in how it takes a relatively simple concept and allows it to evolve organically and with a sense of genuine affection for its characters, putting them in increasingly absurd scenarios that eventually lead to the stark realisation that, as much as they want to pretend that they are on the right path, they’re both hopelessly lonely individuals who were secretly craving an escape from reality, which is momentarily manifested in their quirky adventures before turning into something much deeper and profound, should they wish to pursue it further. It’s an intriguing approach, and one that truly does make The Baltimorons a far more layered film than we would expect at first.

When choosing the right approach for this story, Duplass does acknowledge that his roots are in comedy, and despite the somewhat harsh and more downbeat subject matter (which begins with an attempted suicide before quickly moving to a discussion on addiction), there is a lot of humour embedded deep within this film, which is as funny as it is heartfelt. The brilliance of The Baltimorons is found in the director’s ability to make ideas that would normally be perceived as hopelessly depressing seem outrageously funny, as well as the inverse. How often do we find a film with such an absurd concept proving to have so much nuance and charm without becoming heavy-handed or overly didactic? The Duplass brothers are often cited as being amongst the pioneers of the mumblecore movement, an era of independent cinema defined by blasé characters navigating various challenges (most of which are about as trivial as they could be), driven by dialogue and very little character development, usually a result of the stories being set over more limited periods, such as a single day. Much of this is brought to The Baltimorons, but it does also differ in a few notable ways. For example, the characters here seem much more sympathetic, and there is genuine growth, which is quite rare for a story that takes place over a number of hours. There is even an argument to be made that Duplass is inspired by films like The Before Trilogy and It Happened One Night, in that this is essentially nothing more than a story of two people encountering each other and having their entire lives momentarily derailed as they develop feelings for one another. The emotions are kept genuine and meaningful, with the director actively exploring the lives of these people as they come to know one another. There are a few moments of sentimentality, which are quieter and more profound than we would expect, and a lot of humour that is based around the strange scenarios in which we find these characters, which is both thoroughly entertaining and extremely heartwarming, giving The Baltimorons a very particular tone that Duplass explores brilliantly.

The premise of The Baltimorons lends itself to a more simple approach, and we can see this most clearly in the choice to focus on making what is essentially nothing more than a very charming two-hander. The choice to go with actors who are not entirely unknown, but rather less well-established is a wise choice, since it prevents the focus shifting away from the exceptional writing and character development to the presence of major stars (which are often a bit of a distraction), and instead allows it to settle on a more nuanced, balanced depiction of these people as they navigate what turns out to be quite a consequential day for them both. Strassner co-wrote the screenplay with Duplass, and therefore, a lot of what he is doing is based on his own personality. It’s a fascinating depiction of a man who has seemingly decided to get his life in order, but realises that you cannot just put on a facade of joy when you are still secretly battling intimidating demons within. It’s a wonderful performance in terms of how Strassner plays into Cliff’s more peculiar qualities without making him annoying or shrill, and instead builds the entire performance around the right balance of eccentric and heartfelt. The same can be said for Liz Larsen, someone who has been working for years, albeit in very small roles where she is hardly ever given the focus. She’s wonderful here, taking on the part of this woman who allows her dedication to her career eclipse her domestic duties, until she realises that she has just been using it as a means to distract herself from the reality of the situation. The pair have incredible chemistry, playing off each other beautifully and having a quiet connection around which the entire film is constructed – these are simple characters, but it’s impossible to imagine any other actors playing them in quite the same way. There are a few other actors who appear throughout the film, whether playing characters that are important in the lives of the protagonists (such as Olivia Luccardi, who is the closest the film has to a third lead, even though she doesn’t appear in too much of the film), or a range of supporting players who appear only in a single scene, but add layers to the mosaic of eccentric personalities that surround the two protagonists as they spend this day engaging in some of the most peculiar adventures imaginable.

The Baltimorons is a film that takes hold of the human condition and tosses it around vigorously, which not only proves to be unexpectedly exciting but also unearths deeper meaning below the surface. It’s an effortlessly simple, charming film with an abundance of nuance and a lot of sincerity, much of which is developed through the film’s technique of trying to understand precisely what it is that makes these characters so endearing, resisting any kind of cliche and instead focusing on raw, honest human emotions. Some of this results in outrageously funny, offbeat scenarios, others more quietly intense, haunting depictions of the challenges we often face in contemporary society. Whether we want to look at it as a return to a kind of intimate, simple independent filmmaking that is seemingly becoming more rare than we may like, or as a future alterative holiday classic, there’s no denying that The Baltimorons is a very special film, a bold and daring exploration of the human condition, told over the course of a single day, and featuring a pair of protagonists who represent something much more profound than we may imagine possible – and a lot of the nuance that drives this film (even in its more hilarious moments) come from the director’s fascination with the human condition, particularly his desire to challenge and provoke without crossing boundaries. It’s unique, daring and never anything less than genuinely quite beautiful in its own small, poetic way – and through all of this, we find something truly quite extraordinary emerging, with sharp writing, excellent performances and a command of tone and emotion that proves yet again that Duplass is one of our most essential cinematic voices.