Paper Heart

We live in a time of fantastically gifted improvisational comedians.  In the last decade, the likes of Ricky Gervais ("The Office," both British and American versions), Larry David ("Curb Your Enthusiasm"), and the entire cast of "Arrested Development" have shown the world that improvising is seriously funny and that the faux documentary is the style of choice for this particular type of comedy.  One trick that has yet to be pulled off, however, is the transition of improvisational humor from the small screen to the big screen. The recently released In the Loop did a fairly admirable job of it, but the running time and absence of commercial-break breathers made it feel a bit constricting.

It is into this comedic milieu that Paper Heart, a collaboration between director Nicholas Jasenovec and comedian Michelle Yi, throws itself.  The film is purportedly a documentary about the real Michelle Yi’s belief that true love is an impossible fiction. Jasenovec (or rather, Jake M. Johnson, the actor who plays Jasenovec; more on this later) is incredulous and asks the teenage Yi to go on a tour of the country with him in search of evidence of love.  As the film plays out, Yi meets with several familiar faces (Seth Rogen, Demetri Martin, Paul Rust) to hear their thoughts on the matter. Amazingly, she also bumps into none other than Michael Cera at a house party in Los Angeles.  The two awkwardly hit it off, and their budding relationship becomes the driving force of the film. Yi and Jasenovec do not abandon their tour, however: the film’s most compelling moments come during interviews with real people about their thoughts on love and relationships.  These are often accompanied by home-spun puppetry (used to recreate the stories the people are telling) that lends an air of the picaresque to the film.

The problem is, unlike "The Office," the audience is not entirely in on the joke.  After a few minutes, it becomes apparent that Paper Heart is, in fact, not a documentary: while the scenes with Rogen et al. feel as though they could conceivably be genuine, simply bumping into Michael Cera at a random trashy house in L.A. and putting him in your movie could not happen. Add to this the fact that Jasenovec is played by Johnson (which you could only find out by doing some research on your own), and the conceit falls apart.  The film’s relationship with the audience feels disingenuous and never allows for the level of engagement necessary in good comedy. Part of the fun of improv comedy is knowing that what you are seeing is both staged and unscripted.  It’s exciting to watch performers like Gervais and Steve Carrell work without a net (although the ability to do copious editing is undoubtedly a life-saver for both of them).  When it is unclear what is staged and what is not, and who is who they say they are and who is not, it just isn’t as funny. If Jasenovec is being played by Johnson, who is Yi playing?  Are the “real people” interviewed in the film actually actors?  Does Yi actually believe love does not exist? What’s going on?!

These confusing stylistic choices might all be forgiven, of course, if the film were funnier.  Yi does not come across as a brilliant improviser; even Michael Cera cannot save her.  At points in the film, we see some of Yi’s stand-up routine.  In one bit, she comes out on stage and teases the audience by chiding them for thinking her hair was real.  No, in fact, it’s a wig. But when she delivers the punch line and removes it, it turns out that her hair is exactly the same as the wig. This is Paper Heart, reduced to its essence.  Quirky, lightweight, and only sort of funny, the film shows us that even the seemingly dependable faux documentary style can come up empty without good enough material.

                                    Orson Robbins-Pianka