‘The Baltimorons’ Review: Finding Grace in an Unlikely Christmas Encounter

What do we mean when we talk about a “Christmas movie”? A story set during Christmas? One that celebrates what some like to call the “Christmas spirit”? Both at once? Or neither? It’s hard to say, given how little many so-called Christmas films actually have in common—from It’s a Wonderful Life to Die Hard, with countless others in between. In the case of The Baltimorons—as with Alexander Payne’s recent The Holdovers—what makes it feel “Christmassy” has to do partly with the time of year and partly with that familiar spirit, but more than anything else with its ability to convey empathy, affection, and an almost limitless compassion for the people who inhabit its world.

After several films and series co-directed with his brother Mark, Jay Duplass—also an actor, known for shows like Transparent and Industry—makes his solo directing debut with this funny, warm, and genuinely moving film, which comfortably earns a place among the best Christmas movies of recent years. Its story is neither especially new nor particularly original, but with very modest means and a cast of largely unknown actors, it manages to portray the lives of two people who cross paths at a specific moment—and whose encounter changes, or at least has the potential to change, their lives forever.

Written by and starring Michael Strassner, the film opens—in a clear nod to Frank Capra’s classic—with Cliff attempting suicide. The attempt fails when the belt he uses to hang himself in his attic doesn’t support his weight. The situation is obviously dramatic, yet Duplass presents it with a comic touch. The film then jumps ahead several months, and only then do we really get to know Cliff: he has been sober for six months and appears genuinely happy with his newfound stability. He’s in a relationship with Brittany (Olivia Luccardi), who is deeply concerned about the possibility of a relapse, and together they are heading to her family’s house to celebrate Christmas.

A random accident changes everything. Cliff, who is rather clumsy, trips on a staircase, slams his face into a door, and loses a tooth. After several failed attempts, he finally finds a dentist willing to see him on Christmas and goes in for a temporary crown. Her name is Didi (Liz Larsen), and it quickly becomes clear why she’s working that day: her ex-husband has remarried a younger woman, and her daughter has postponed their Christmas plans to attend his wedding. Didi fixes Cliff’s problem, and he—having overheard her phone conversation with her daughter—starts joking around and, slightly loopy from the anesthesia, even flirts with her, despite the obvious age difference. Didi, somewhat curt, shuts him down.

Once Cliff leaves the office, he discovers that his car has been towed for illegal parking. That’s when the real adventure begins—one that, if initially a bit contrived, soon leads them to spend hours together, moving through a series of situations that shift from absurd to heartfelt, from comic to melancholic. As they grow closer, they help each other confront their respective conflicts, traumas, and limitations. For Didi, this involves her fraught relationship with her ex, his new partner, and her daughter. For Cliff—who used to make a living performing improv comedy but gave it up when he quit drinking—it’s the fear that returning to comedy could trigger a relapse. His girlfriend, for her part, doesn’t even want him setting foot in a comedy club.

Using the same casual, street-level style that defined the films Duplass directed with his brother during the mumblecore years (The Puffy Chair, Cyrus, Jeff, Who Lives at Home), Jay on his own takes the characters on a journey through Baltimore—from the suburbs to downtown, from the impound lot where towed cars are kept to trendy neighborhoods, and eventually to the Patapsco River that runs through this populous Maryland city. A place usually portrayed in media and fiction as dense and dangerous (see The Wire), Baltimore looks strikingly different here. The spirit of improvisation Cliff once knew how to harness on stage now comes into play in everyday life, as he gets into—and out of—awkward situations with charm, resourcefulness, and, between the two, a touch of audacity.

There’s something in the naturalism of the characters and the spaces they move through that gives The Baltimorons—a title drawn from a comedy routine Cliff used to perform—an air of authenticity. Add to that the absence of recognizable stars, and even when the plot follows well-worn paths, it never loses its credibility. Accustomed as we are to actors with flawless looks, idealized bodies, and perfectly aligned teeth, it’s genuinely refreshing to watch a film carried by people who feel real—who don’t have the age, appearance, or mannerisms of movie stars. That’s what ultimately deepens the sense of honesty the film radiates: a movie that doesn’t need to underline its intentions to make it clear that its heart is very much in the right place.