Juliet, Naked

A long-term relationship, once overflowing with amorous bounty, has fallen into a state of blind extraction, one partner remaining guiltless as the other pans and prospects, crass dismissive routine having disenchanted glib absorption.

Duncan Thomson (Chris O'Dowd) is quite successful for someone who's become even more enamoured with the music of his youth as he's aged, a rare highly-specialized peculiarity who's found both stimulating employment and an irresistible mate without having to adjust his lifestyle, at all, like an uncompromised established radical nerd god I suppose, who may have been diagnosed autistic if he hadn't learned to tame distracting obsessions, level-headed if not unique, examining non-Dickensian media pedagogically throughout the day.

Annie Platt (Rose Byrne) is also a success yet puts up with more bullshit than most women I know would for five minutes. She's spent too many years acquiescing and it's unfortunately resulted in stalemate.

When suddenly, as if a rival divinity decided to mystify his or her earthly spiritual contemporaries, she writes a critical review of the artist Duncan fetishizes, and shortly thereafter, that very same singer/songwriter, one Tucker Crowe (Ethan Hawke), makes first intuitive contact.

Crowe's soon visiting town after attending an hospitable family reunion close by (he's from the States and Annie lives in Britain), and the two hit it off even though/because they're both rather charmingly unsure of themselves.

Multiple characters offering myriad commentaries accompany them as they exchange goods, stewing an atypical bourgeois pot roast of sorts which narratively generates free-flowing conceptual sustenance.

From Annie's worldly lesbian sister (Lily Brazier as Ros Platt) to her town's mayoral sensation (Phil Davis as Mayor Terry Barton) to the subject of an old school photograph (Ninette Finch) to Tucker's thoughtful son Jackson (Azhy Robertson), an active international urbanely pastoral assertive inoffensive multigenerational cluster thoughtfully protrudes, constant flux radiating concerted solitude, domestic clutches loosening vows seized.

Unmarried vows.

Whatever.

The main characters aren't one-dimensional pin-ups either, evolving crises and resurgent settlements interrogatively finagling initial semantic outlines, as a matter of psychological flexibility openly conciliated, in spite of pretence recalled.

Tucker Crowe isn't ideal or anything, but he's changed and is much more responsible than he used to be.

Breakdowns still regularly accompany his daily regimen, often brought on by legitimate grievances cunningly wielded by jaded yet prosperous former lovers.

Wives, partners, fans.

Children he's never met.

Duncan is a bit of a douche but you still feel for him when Crowe bluntly and insensitively ignores his questions, even if from Crowe's point of view he's that guy.

Juliet, Naked is a laidback multilayered serious comedic piece of exceptional screenwriting (Evgenia Peretz, Jim Taylor, and Tamara Jenkins), convincing personalities innocently/frankly/charitably/maturely/helplessly/judiciously observing otherworldly circumstances, while remaining committed to personal affairs which romanticize anaesthetic sensation.

Dozens of cool little ideas and points of view expertly weaved into a funny unconcerned profound teacup tapestry.

It doesn't acknowledge how ridiculous it all sounds.

Adroitly so.

I'll keep coming back to the hospital scene again and again, which was much too short.

Perfectly timed ending though.