The one thing you can always count on in a Quentin Dupieux film is that it will rarely make sense. His previous works of Rubber, a film about a homicidal car tire, and Wrong, an absurd missing dog story that amounts to nothing, should serve as clear indications that Dupieux is a surrealist filmmaker who doesn’t care about logic. His work often divides audiences—you’re either a fan of his meta-narrative tendencies or you despise them—Reality is no exception.

Like past Dupieux’s films, describing the plot mechanics of Reality is challenging and mostly useless. Here each subplot weaves with another, but unlike most interlocking storyline films, they never actually form into a cohesive story. For example, the film begins with a character named Reality (Kyla Kenedy), a daughter of a taxidermist who finds a mysterious blue cassette tape in the innards of her father’s latest kill. She spends the rest of the film trying to play the tape (which she eventually accomplishes, though it doesn’t make sense, naturally). But one night when Reality begins to fall asleep, Dupieux takes us down the first of many rabbit holes. Suddenly, the image of Reality sleeping is projected on a movie screen in a private screening between a movie director named Zog (John Glover) and Bob the producer (Jonathan Lambert). Yet, Reality interacts with and weaves into other story threads, making it impossible to tell reality from dreams, or if any given scene is actually part of a movie-within-a-movie. Leos Carax, David Lynch, Luis Buñuel, and perhaps even Jacques Tati would be proud.

The closest to a lead in the film is Jason (Alain Chabat). He plays a cameraman for a cable access cooking show (hosted by Jon Heder (Napoleon Dynamite) who wears a giant rat suit and suffers from an invisible case of eczema) and an inspiring filmmaker who pitches his film idea to Bob (who insists the filmmaker capture the best groan in movie history if it’s to receive financing). Later on Jason finds out that his idea was already made into a movie by a different director. But maybe he was just dreaming it was? Or perhaps Jason is a lead in the movie about wanting to make a movie? Maybe both.

Is your head spinning yet?

One red herring after another, Dupieux throws ideas at the wall without any intention of anything actually sticking. Eric Wareheim cruises around in a military jeep dressed as a woman for no clear reason, but he also plays the superintendent of Reality’s school. Every storyline connects, but the collection of random ideas amount to very little. Dupieux presents “reality” in the form of nightmares and half-truths, but never in a way to be taken too seriously. In fact, Reality might be Dupieux’s funniest movie yet. When Jason shows up to watch the movie he hasn’t made yet, Rubber 2 is displayed on the marquee outside the theater, a subtle nod for fans of the filmmaker. More obvious humor is found when Jason obsesses over recording an “Oscar-worthy” groan for his movie or when Bob can’t make up his mind on having the meeting with Jason inside or outside, eventually moving his entire desk to the middle of the woods.

Trying to put all the pieces together is pointless. The sooner one can accept a character shooting a surfer with a sniper rifle from his patio, the sooner they may just find the film to be an enjoyable experience. Still, as creative and thought-out as the film may be, its empty absurdity is frustrating and often tedious to sit through. For one of cinema’s strangest filmmakers, Reality’s humor and brain-teasing is a step in the right direction, but will still leave most viewers in the middle of nowhere.

Fans of awkward comedy will get a lot more than they bargained for with Rick Alverson’s The Comedy, a hilarious and tragic character study that brutally tears apart the worst aspects of hipster culture. Swanson (Tim Heidecker), a 35 year old depressed hipster who’s about to inherit his dying father’s estate, spends most of his time doing nothing of substance. Living on a yacht outside of the city, when he’s not hanging out with his friends (which include LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy and Heidecker’s sidekick Eric Wareheim) he’s interacting with strangers abrasively.

The first scene where we actually meet Swanson (after a very homoerotic opening scene) is him berating a male nurse taking care of his father. The nurse quietly takes Swanson’s questions about prolapsed anuses and going to “nurse school” with other women before leaving. It’s uncomfortable to watch, but it’s only the first of many scenes like it. Soon after, Swanson sees gardeners working on a house and pretends to be working with them, but when his attempts to rile up the homeowners fail he drops the act altogether. It’s evident that Swanson only thrives off of generating conflicts because, with no other skills or interests in his life, it makes him feel relevant.

The rest of The Comedy mostly unfolds in an episodic fashion, with Heidecker generating more awkward situations or partying with his friends. The lack of any real movement in the storyline might be one of (many) things that’ll turn people off from the film, but calling The Comedy lacking would be missing Alverson’s point. Shows that have used ‘cringe comedy’ over the years like The Office or Curb Your Enthusiasm enjoy watching people squirm their way out of situations they either unwittingly put themselves in or are forced to handle. Swanson is doing neither of these things as he’s the one instigating and encouraging conflict. With such little plot the only thing viewers can focus on is Swanson’s bitter, hateful behaviour.

Heidecker, giving one of the year’s best performances, is able to maintain interest without giving an inch towards making Swanson someone deserving of sympathy. Things are played mostly on the surface level here, but Heidecker easily communicates how depressed Swanson really is without being overt about it. By the end it feels like Swanson is merely trapped in a cycle of his own creation where he pisses other people off only because it’s what he’s used to.

People who know Heidecker from his work on Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! might expect The Comedy to be similar to his work on TV, but they’d be wrong in making that assumption. While there are some truly funny scenes, The Comedy is mainly about the toxicity of the ironic, detached behaviour that’s so popular with hipsters (Alverson’s choice to cast people associated with hipsters seems like a deliberate one to ensure his film is seen by the right people). After spending 90 minutes with characters like Swanson and his friends, no one will want to resemble them in any way whatsoever. That alone makes The Comedy a success.