Jason Schwartzman has perfected the alchemy of the self-centered but likable asshole, a petty narcissist out looking for love and acceptance in all the wrong places who, despite his hardened outer shell, really does have his heart in the right place. We’ve seen it before, born and arguably perfected during his work with his pal Wes Anderson, the character might have reached its peak in last year’s acerbic Listen Up, Philip. And the truth is, there are few other actors working today who could have made Listen Up, Philip watchable, let alone made audiences root for such a vain prick. But Schwartzman did all that and more. And now, with Bob Byington’s (Somebody Up There Likes Me) 7 Chinese Brothers, Schwartzman is working his magic again, while managing to salvage some of the film around him.

The beats of 7 Chinese Brothers are rather simple. Schwartzman plays Larry, a hard-drinking, hardly working schlub, who spends his days motor mouthing through one-sided conversations with his so-ugly-he’s-cute bulldog, Arrow. Larry’s life is going nowhere, and he seems happy with that. But things take a turn when he’s fired from his serving job for stealing booze and drinking on the job. Judging from Larry’s response, it’s easy to see he’s been here before. In fact, not much in his life changes at first. That same night Larry hits the clubs with his buddy Major Norwood (Tunde Adebimpe of TV On The Radio), pops some pills, and wakes up on his couch the next day. The one thing Larry does right in his life is visit his foul-mouthed grandma (Olympia Dukakis) in her assisted living home. Even as she continues to rebuff his pleas for money, he keeps visiting.

It seems only by chance that Larry winds up working at Quick Lube, vacuuming cars and stealing change. Soon, though, Larry realizes that he likes both this new job and his new boss (Eleanore Pienta) — a feeling that’s complicated by Norwood’s mysterious skills with women.

What’s clear from start to finish is that Larry doesn’t have much of a filter. Time and again he speaks out of line, uttering every humorous and asinine thing that pops into his head. Not only that, but he doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks either. It’s this unfiltered Schwartzman that keeps 7 Chinese Brothers up and running for as long as it does (and the film is brisk, clocking in at 76 minutes).

The narrative, on paper, makes sense and offers Larry some room to grow, but the film seems uninterested in any sort of progression, meandering often. Granted there are films and filmmakers who make this work, building their films to embody the marooned and stagnant characters they have set out to study. But here the story beats that Byington does choose to hit and follow, often do little to help us understand Larry or help him understand himself (with one particular subplot about his boss’ ex-husband and his petty theft being the worst of all).

Films like 7 Chinese Brothers are inherently challenging to make. Most movies are built upon one of two things: the movement of plot or the growth of character. Which is not to say that films about directionless people aren’t valuable or enjoyable (many of Schwartzman’s characters are in fact rather directionless or otherwise inhibited). But rather that the challenge is particularly great to find a way to invest an audience in someone going nowhere and wanting nothing (Larry claims to want a lot but does very little to get any of it). And, arguably, the only reason we invest in Larry at all is Arrow, Schwartzman’s real-life pet and reaction shot master. Not only does Arrow feel like the emotional core of the film, but he also steals damn near every scene he’s in.

On the technical end, the score by Vampire Weekend’s Chris Baio is energetic and subdued all at once, bringing a nice forward push that might have otherwise been absent from the proceedings. At times, though, the music seems to take on a life of it’s own, diverging from the scene to become an independent and less resonant song.

Finally, while the film is clearly flawed, the most obvious misstep seems to have been born in the editing room. Pieced together by Robert Greene and Leah Marino, 7 Chinese Brothers doesn’t ever feel clunky or haphazard, but it does feel lost rather often, like chunks of time have been excised or forgotten. While not quite fatal, it is hard not to feel muddled or confounded when you can’t even figure out where the scene is taking place or what sort of odd architecture a building has.

For all the mess that is the film’s final third, 7 Chinese Brothers remains a light-on-its-feet comedy shouldered along by a solid performance from Schwartzman, by turns hilarious, caustic, and ultimately mournful. And while many might find themselves wondering what the point is, it’s hard to flaw a film that, unlike so many, refuses to judge its characters, and refuses to tell them how they ought to be living.

Jason Schwartzman has always been a bit manic onscreen, his characters often charmingly smarmy. He’s quite possibly the perfect example of “flawed but likable”—which, by the way, is a deep compliment. So, while last year’s Listen Up Philip mixed up the formula a bit, Schwartzman seems to be back in his comfort zone with the first trailer for 7 Chinese Brothers.

The flick follows Larry (Schwartzman) as he’s booted from one job and forced to hunt down another—a large feat for the oft-inebriated slacker. Soon, though, Larry gets a bite at a tire and lube shop and meets Lupe, who just might help him get his life in order.

Written and directed by Bob Byington (Somebody Up There Likes Me), the cast is rounded out by Stephen Root, Olympia Dukakis, and TV on the Radio frontman Tunde Adebimpe. The film premiered at SXSW earlier this year to some positive nods, and the trailer promises laughs. But honestly, we’d line up for Schwartzman alone.

7 Chinese Brothers opens August 28th. Check out the first trailer below.

Audience reactions of Bob Byington’s Somebody Up There Must Like Me were evenly split between largely in favor or largely against the film. And it is easy to see why as the film does not aim for any middle ground. You will also either find yourself completely attached to the style or it will be an outright miss. Somebody Up There Must Like Me appears to take whimsical cues straight out of a Wes Anderson playbook, where style often trumps substance, though this film fails to achieve any of the equivalent results.

A recent divorce has sent Max (Keith Poulson), a wisecracking steakhouse waiter, into the dreadful dating scene once again. After one disastrous date, it seems like Max’s luck appears to be completely non-existent. Not only is his dating life miserable, but each one of his customers tends to be on the annoying side, but he handles them effortlessly with his nonchalant attitude. One day while chatting with a fellow co-worker Sal (Nick Offerman), a female co-worker named Lyla (Jess Weixler) greets Max as if they have never spoken before despite the fact she has worked there for three years.

Lyla’s quirky personality is shown right away with her addiction that has her constantly eating the restaurant’s breadsticks. Her character has a tendency of being rather clueless which meshes right off the bat with Max’s aimless outlook on life. Equally is fast as their decision to go on their fast date is their decision to get married. The film then begins to skip along in five-year increments which spans a few decades in total. Many things do change over these years but his demeanor and physical appearance never do.

Somebody Up There Must Like Me serves up a heavy dose of dry humor mixed with nonsensical characters. One example of this is that Lyla has a very nice working vehicle parked in her driveway, yet takes the bus to work every day without explaining why. The film is also filled with non-traditional components that adds some rather unique style. When Max asks Lyla if she has received a raise she mishears him say “raisins” and the word is then shown as a subtitle on the screen. There is an overall theme of miscommunication found throughout, but the choice use of the subtitle in this scene suggests that the director is intentionally showing miscommunication to the audience in a satire manner.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with a film that takes a totally out of the ordinary approach. In fact, more often than not I actually prefer those types of films. However, there should be at least a sliver of a reason beyond being weird simply for weirdness sake. Somebody Up There Must Like Me reminds me of films like Quentin Dupieux’s Wrong, in which the absurdity is so deliberate that it diminishes the creativity it strives to achieve. Because the film itself seemed to follow the same aimless path of its characters, no real attachment can be made to any of its characters. Motivations in the film are not made very clear which leaves one to question the meaning of the entire film. Perhaps the point of the film is to have no point, but it feels like more of a cop out than any real revelation.

JR (Carlen Altman) just broke up with her boyfriend, a former college professor of hers before she dropped out of school. With no one to turn to, she calls up her brother Colin (Alex Ross Perry) to help move her things out of the professor’s home. JR, an aspiring news broadcaster, repeatedly manipulates the truth to make her dead-end career choice seem prosperous to others. Colin, still living at home with a girlfriend he hates and having no real direction in his life, is needlessly bitter in social situations. JR picks her brother up and in no time the two of them are off.

Alex Ross Perry, the director/co-writer/star/producer of The Color Wheel (just to name a few of his duties here), is working in more familiar genre territory compared to his singularly weird debut Impolex. The story of two siblings who don’t get along road-tripping sounds like the sort of indie fare Sundance or SXSW would gleefully accept. What makes The Color Wheel stand out from other road-trip films, and also part of its brilliance, is how Perry completely demolishes all genre expectations to the point of repelling potential viewers.

The first third of the film spends almost all of its time with JR and Colin. The only other character with any lines is the owner of a Christian motel who refuses to let the two of them share the same room unless they’re married. The way that this broadly comic situation is filtered through Perry’s direction and writing (which he co-wrote with Altman) immediately sets the off-kilter tone that runs through the rest of the movie. Watching JR and Colin interact with each other ranges from annoying to downright hilarious, with so many snipes and insults tossed back and forth it’s impossible to catch all of them at once.

Once JR and Colin do start interacting with other people, things take a surprising turn. Everyone they encounter treats the both of them like garbage, starting with JR’s professor/ex-boyfriend (Bob Byington) who ruthlessly insults her as she flails around trying to defend herself. Suddenly JR starts to turn into a more sympathetic character, and The Color Wheel starts to feel like everything is filtered through Colin and JR’s skewed perspective. Neither of them get along with each other over the bulk of the film, but they both share similar situations and anxieties.

All of this culminates into a long sequence where the two go to a party held by old high school acquaintances. The party doesn’t feel natural in the slightest, playing out like the absolute worst case scenario one would associate with going to visit high school friends. Everyone at the party is successful with a career, and at one point they directly confront JR on what she’s doing with her life. By the time they leave the party JR and Colin’s loneliness is more apparent than ever. The penultimate scene in the film, a 9 minute shot that packs one hell of a punch, makes perfect sense once the initial shock wears off.

Alex Ross Perry has defined himself as one of the more exciting new directors with The Color Wheel, a movie bursting with ideas that also serves as a necessary shot in the arm for American independent cinema. The content, along with Perry’s comedic style, would make for a great double feature with The Comedy, but only the stronger types could be able to make it through both films.