Becoming Baltimorons

I don’t know what there is about Baltimore that makes it such a funky film mecca. But Baltimore spawned Barry Levinson, whose first film, Diner (1982), was an homage to his young adult years hanging out in the city of this birth. Levinson quickly moved on to bigger and better things, and won an Oscar for directing 1988’s Rain Man, primarily set against the bright lights of Las Vegas. But he returned to his Baltimore roots for 1987’s Tin Men, 1990’s Avalon, and 1999’s Liberty Heights, while also pursuing a major directorial career elsewhere.

  Levinson may have mostly traded his hometown for mainstream Hollywood, but John Waters never left. Each of his deliberately trashy movies (which include such titles as Pink Flamingos, Polyester, and Cecil B. Demented) is set in Baltimore, where he has assembled a loyal stock company of acolytes.

 I bring up all of this because I’ve just seen an amiable new indie called The Baltimorons, directed by Jay Duplass, and co-written by Duplass with Michael Strassner, who also plays the overstuffed but totally endearing lead. Strassner, a Baltimore native, portrays to perfection a sadsack comedian and improv actor who—having finally achieved sobriety—is trying hard to turn his life around. It all happens on Christmas Eve in Baltimore. When Strassner’s Cliff breaks a tooth and needs an emergency dental appointment, he has no idea that he and the one dentist who’ll meet his needs will soon be off on an odyssey through Baltimore that becomes—surprise!—downright romantic.

 The Baltimore we encounter in John Waters films and on TV’s The Wire leans heavily toward the down-and-dirty side of the Charm City. Think tacky trailer parks, and worse. But in The Baltimorons (named after Cliff’s stage soubriquet), the city is filmed with loving eyes. Yes, the Christmas lights on the rowhouses may look slightly tacky, but the Inner Harbor at night gleams with promise. It’s enough to make us want to jump on a plane—or better still a boat—and see that majestic bridge for ourselves. (Admittedly, I believe it’s the bridge that collapsed after a container ship rammed it in 2024, so The Baltimorons allows us to turn back the clock. The disaster, with its tragic loss of life, is addressed in the film’s credits.)

 I’d be remiss if I didn’t hail the performance of Liz Larsen, a veteran character actress who’s not usually in the spotlight. We first meet her as a no-nonsense dental professional, then gradually come to appreciate what life has done to her, and how badly she needs something positive to happen, especially on Christmas Eve. Under Cliff’s tutelage, she gradually reveals (via a trip to a comedy club followed by a late-night cruise in her ex-husband’s fishing trawler) a madcap side we didn’t at first suspect. Is love blooming? Well, sort of—though this may be the most unlikely pairing since Harold and Maude.

 This modest indie isn’t perfect. The whole relationship between Cliff and his recent fiancée is never fully explained: why is she so exceedingly loyal to a jobless loser like him? And comedies that kick off with a failed suicide attempt are not exactly original. Still, it’s always a pleasure to see a small film that tugs at the heartstrings. Jay Duplass, who often works with younger brother Mark, is a former actor (TV’s Transparent). Both brothers were inspired early on by the work of another pair of brothers, Ethan and Joel Coen, especially their dark but exceedingly comic Raising Arizona. As a Coen Brothers fan myself, I wish the Duplass duo long, happy creative lives.