It's complicated... I really like the directing, acting and writing but, there are issues with the way it's shot that I just can't deny. As much as I love the storytelling and the fantastic performance but, there are also certain scenes that didn't need to exist.

When a movie has you begging for it to end not even half way through it's pure crap. We've all seen this movie and this characters millions of times, nothing new in it. Don't waste your time.

All of these films share one commonality, that being a kind of emotional center that humanizes a cast of monsters.

The movie turns out to be a little better than the average. Starting from a romantic formula often seen in the cinema, it ends in the most predictable (and somewhat bland) way.

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.

We often go through our ordinary lives without truly living and making a difference. It's up to charming indie films like "Jeff, Who Lives at Home" to inspire us. Independent films often touch something true and deep, that many mainstream blockbusters don't come close to. The Duplass brothers are indie kings. They're kind enough to cast Jason Segal, Ed helms, and Susan Sarandon in a film that costs virtually nothing. Jason Segal gives one of his between roles as Jeff, a low- life underachiever who lives in his mother's basement. off on an errand, he spends the afternoon with his miserable brother Pat (Ed Helms) as they track down his wife who they are convinced is having an affair. With only 83 minutes of screen-time, The Duplass brothers pack in hilarious dry humor and touching family scenes that go beyond what may seem expected. The whole central idea these boys try and touch is how there is always destiny in life. Jeff and Pat couldn't have been more likable and refreshing characters to enjoy. We get tons of development from them, and tackle their journey with them. Ed Helms and Jason Segal work brilliantly together. They change the feeling of the film in seconds. It's surprising how hard you can laugh before crying your eyes out due to beautiful brotherly contact. Veteran actress Susan Sarandon is superb as always. We're gifted to have her play the brothers mom, who we learn is having her own crisis after the death of her husband. "Jeff, Who Lives at Home" does get a little pretentious and overdone towards the end, but it's a real audience pleaser that tries to tell an impactful story in the most meaningful way without missing its feel-good effect. Remember, it's a comedy, meaning we do get a lot of mischief between the boys, which may frustrate some viewers. I couldn't have liked it more. This is the pleaser that makes you stand up and cheer if you'r lucky enough to hear about it.

Jeff, Who Lives At Home is a great example of an indie film. Jeff, a 30-year-old slacker, is searching for meaning in an aimless life, looking at pop culture references for a sign.Jeff's journey may seem like a simple one, but his mission to buy wood-glue for a broken shutter is not dissimilar to Odysseus's epic return. The twist in the third act underscores the idea that within all of us lies a destiny. (Jeff, Who Becomes a Hero, as a title, would've given it away.) Jason Segel gives a great goofy charm to the lead character, and he is ably supported by Ed Helms as his obnoxious and insensitive brother. Susan Sarandon is faultless as the mother looking for a sign of her own as she suffers bleak corporate office cubicle.Ultimately, this is not only a comedy about a slacker living in his mother's basement, but a hopeful look at family and what that word means. It starts slow, then reveals some wonderful surprises.

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'.