Jason Segel is Jeff, a thirty-something jobless stoner still living with his mother and lazily waiting around for his true calling. His opening monologue has plenty of potential. He doesn't just love M. Night Shyamalan's Signs, he thinks the movie is speaking directly to his soul, calling him into action, guiding him towards the universe's signals. This is all before it cuts to reveal him sitting on the toilet, and then makes the well worn journey back to the TV and couch, and where his bong lies. Jeff's little opening mantra, like the film's soundtrack, contains the right amount of whimsy to rope the audience into rooting for him - we're waiting for the beat to pick up, for him to finally break into a run. But the rest of the character is thinly drawn. Segel is familiar with the role - he made mid-life loserville look effortless in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, where he was so defeated even his capacity for self-pity was all but extinguished. But here even his laziness is lazy. He might look the part with the sullen stare, rolled shoulders, and an entire wardrobe comprised of baggy hoodies, but there is little personality beyond the intro. Where is the lived-in monotony, of a bong hit so familiar that it stings? Jeff is told to go outside for an errand, and he meekly abides, swinging his arms and peering curiously at the sun. It's a casual sketch of a recluse. His hazy, misguided motivations ring true; we recognise that he is more in love with the idea of destiny's calling than actually getting off the couch. It works too, until he just walks out anyway. Along the way he bumps into his more conventionally successful brother, and the Duplasses' intent is to gradually reveal how similar their plights really are. We recognise that almost instantly anyway from Ed Helms' hapless performance, and seeing how dismally his wardrobe reflects his priorities: he goes through the entire film in his work uniform, and with the dismissive demeanour of a bullying manager. There's no charm in the role, and we shift uncomfortably as he tries to smoothly play off a surprise splurge on a sports car, but ends up looking pathetic instead. Pat is a loser, although a different kind from his brother. But like a bad Alexander Payne, the film doesn't know when to stop bashing its characters, until we're past the dark humour and into plain sad territory. It goes all the way, only to let them off easy after all. Greer's dialogue has a way of cutting right into the heart of Pat's patent narcissism and past all his self-aggrandising bullsh*t, and it's a wonder she is still there to accept him into her loving arms at the end. The Duplasses fight Jeff's theory of placing himself at the centre of the universe by well, placing him at the centre of the universe, making a big, melodramatic show of him jumping into the river and pulling off a heroic deed. The women, in comparison, seem to exist in the real world. We're touched by Sarandon's weary, middle-aged musings on her missed opportunities because she is someone we all recognise or even occupied. She was supposed to be in the peace corp, tending to a gang of adorable orphans, and in her regret she mixes a little self-awareness in there, as if she fully realises just how naive that youthful, self-gratifying fantasy really was. By far the most annoying aspect of the film is its style. Call it mumblecore, indie, low-budget, whatever - no label can hides how unmotivated and nauseous it is here. The Duplasses' favoured technique are those jarring, jerking half zooms, which don't serve any apparent compositional purpose, but simply appear to yell in the viewer's ear and loudly proclaim its authenticity. While mockumentary shows such as Modern Family and The Office fully embrace the camera's fly-on-the- wall presence, as if their everyday zaniness has to be seen to be believed, Jeff, Who Lives at Home throws it in as a stylistic commitment it can't pull off. It wants to be real, but not too real. It has the neat, bow-wrapped ambitions and comedic situations well tread by the twenty minute sitcom, but ends up dragging out its philosophy into something far more pretentious. It might just be some wood glue, but the implication is life-changing.

Well, there are two ways to go about this movie. There's the way of a nice superficial 2 or 3 out of 10 and then you can actually try and understand it a bit. This was what I chose. The movie is heartbreaking. It's kind of random and weird but if you go along and stick with it, you can see that this is a masterpiece. The problems it discusses are there more and more frequently the past few years. It's a movie of its time, and it touches all the sensitive issues. It discusses about the alienation between family members as well as our inability to understand the different in all aspects of life, respect it and just nurture it. It also gets into the marital issues that drive so many couples apart. And although these seem a lot, and there are even more, it makes it. It gets you a small sample of everything, emotions flooding and leading you to maybe cry a bit but hopefully be a better person by the end of the movie.

It was probably my fault. They say you should never judge a book by a cover and, in this case, I didn't really read much about the film before I watched it. I just looked at the cover and figured it was going to be one of those light-hearted 'Judd Apatow' adult comedies where things get a little silly and a lot saucy. I was wrong.They claim 'Jeff, Who Lives at Home' is a comedy, but I would say that if falls firmly in the 'off-beat drama' category. It's about two brothers (one a slacker who lives at home - Jeff, obviously) and one who's trying to make his way in the business world and their capers dealing with a day of fate and revelations when they think the brother's wife is having an affair. All in all, that sounds like a reasonably good recipe for comedy, but the film focuses on the more quirky dramatic aspect of it all, rather than pies landing in people's faces.It's one of those films that probably requires a second viewing to appreciate it properly. I sat down expecting an American Pie-esque comedy. Therefore I was always going to be disappointed. However, if you're in the mood for something just a little bit more dramatic where the humour is a lot more subtle, this one could be for you.As a comedy it's only a 6/10, but as a drama it should be looked at a little more highly.

I know what this movie is supposed to be shooting for, but it misses its mark badly. It's trying to go for quiet, quirky comedy/drama that contains meaningful message. But instead of quiet-it's lethargic. Instead of quirky-it's unfocused. Instead of meaningful, it's saccharin. The concept is silly, which is fine if you can pull it off, here it's not. A 30 year old loser with no prospects sits in his mom's basement smoking pot and obsessed with the movie 'Signs'. His obsession winds up affecting the lives of people around him whose lives are superficially OK, but just as messed up. The part where Susan Sarandon's character starts imaging the sprinklers as a waterfall was where the fake schmaltz level went through the roof. The dramatic rescue scene was the only saving grace in the entire movie.I'm open to these kinds of movies done well, done badly it's just a painful waste of time. Time better spent smoking pot in the basement. If you want to see a movie that's along similar themes that's far more entertaining, go see 'Our Idiot Brother'.