The Comedy: Cinematic Masterpiece? Yep.

One of society's greatest handicaps is tolerance. Certainly it has value, especially in protecting those whom our cultural has historically shunned or feared, but the by-product is an inability to be honest. We don't tell anyone when they are misguided or wrong, for fear of coming off like a prick. I see it regularly in standup comedy, but the same came be said for most artistic pursuits: we overcompensate when watching someone fail miserably, by reminding them that these actions are just as valid and entertaining as the next performer. We are all beautiful and unique snowflakes, and no choice is the wrong choice. When applied more dangerously, tolerance can even become support. Not offering your opinion to correct the behavior of those around you is a few degrees from encouraging them to go further.

Rick Alverson's new film The Comedy takes a unique snowflake who has never been told "no" and shows how dangerous he is to the world around him. It's a character study that fans of Harmony Korine or Jim Jarmusch should feel at home inside, but never comfortable.

Tim Heidecker portrays an aging NYC hipster who spends his days aggressively engaging in small cruelties in a passively desperate bid to endow his life with meaning. He and his group of friends (including Tim & Eric co-star Eric Wareheim, LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy, and standup comedian Neil Hamburger) drink PBR, vomit, and reiterate through word and thought just how much better they are than everything else. Character names never matter, and the only thing to focus on is how desperately each character demands focus at all times. It's a group of friends who imagine their lives as being videotaped at all times, which makes the implied absence of a camera so frightening.

Consider Tim & Eric's Awesome Show or even Jack-Ass. Depending on your tastes, these programs are either mindless junk or hilarious entertainment. But in both cases, the performative aspect suggests that these people are not this way all of the time. Johnny Knoxville probably wouldn't go home and staple a baby's testicles the way he staples his own, and Eric Wareheim needn't scream nonsense sounds at his wife in the middle of the night. The Comedy takes these comedic sensibilities out of the realm of performance and places them in public space, where there is no safety net of production assistants. You could laugh without guilt if the guys in Jack-Ass ruined a church, because you knew MTV would pay double to fix everything, and compensate those attacked on camera for their suffering. To imagine the same situation in real life, where the only compensation is emotional scarring, is difficult to stomach.

So why am I still laughing? The Comedy manages to balance on a hinge, nearing a fugue state, wherein you can enjoy a scene for the free-spirited delight this group of middle-aged adolescents commits to, and suddenly be reminded of its social perspective and the victims of their good time. The inverse holds true for the drama, where the funnier Heidecker attempts to be the more disappointment and hatred builds within you, while the moments of honest pain or desperation for him illicit laughter. This film masters schadenfreude early on, and never looks back.

I expected a punishing experience based on a few scenes that had been released, including an especially teeth-grinding segment between the three main bros and a foreign cab driver. What I hadn't expected was so much redemption. Not for any of the characters, but artistically. Heidecker presents the freakshow version of himself we've grown to love through a funhouse mirror of disillusionment and disinterest, but turns a corner in the third act in a sequence which shifts to sudden violence, and without saying a word takes the film from indie-house to awards material. His interpretation of this vapid character is rendered more fascinating by making him oddly calculating and layered, as opposed to an empty vessel sociopath. His major arcs surround trying to find a job to validate his trust fund existence or make a connection to another human being; while others are suspicious he's already got a punchline planned, there is presented a genuine longing to make something work, which means the joke is almost always on him.

The Comedy is an unforgettable yet agonizing experience, akin to being trapped in the corner of a party with the most self-confident jack-off on the planet. You'll be certain that it's views and jokes are not only complete wrong, but antagonistic to you directly. And that's what makes it so good. This film invites you to lambast the failure of men who mistakenly believe they are unique, but Alverson's vision actually is, and it deserves your attention.