"Arthouse" can be a tricky tag to define. It's the sort of thing we notice early on - sometimes during the trailer or with a quick glance at the poster - and creates a noticeable weight to whatever we are watching. That weight can be some expected, ulterior significance, it can be the dread of a slow moving character piece where everyone talks in one big mumble. An arthouse work is, generally, trying to do something that challenges you, but often it challenges your patience more than anything else. There are plenty of good arthouse pictures out there, but you could be forgiven for seeing trailers for things like Maniac and thinking "great, another one." You'd be mistaken, however, and I don't think you are at fault.
Maniac had good marketing, let's get that out of the way now. It just wasn't very accurate. Maniac advertises itself as this pretentious, 10-part art film spanning genres with some vague hand waving implying there are important things this has to say. And, to some degree, that isn't totally wrong. The most inaccurate word in that statement is probably "pretentious", because for all of Maniac's ambitious visual work and quirky setting, it is sure ready to laugh at itself. Maniac is a dark comedy, with emphasis on the word "comedy". This miniseries is downright hilarious sometimes, letting its odd setting show just how odd it really is. Characters come off as sympathetic and pathetic, swollen with hubris and pitiful children, all without breaking the immersion. The show certainly gets to some lofty themes about human connection and grief, but it is just as willing to laugh at the absurdity of those themes as it is to tug at the heart strings.
The gist of the plot is that Emma Stone's Annie and Jonah Hill's Owen are both severely damaged people for reasons better discovered in the show itself, and due to independent needs join an experimental pharmaceutical trial. The drug on trial is really three drugs in conjunction with a super computer, meant to work you through your worst issues and cure you of whatever mental problems ail you, essentially as replacement for years and years of therapy (and the motivation for why this trial is going comes into play as well). The way the drugs work is they put you into subconscious fantasies that work you through your issues, but, naturally, not all goes to plan. It is very reminiscent of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but with a few key differences. One difference I'll spoil for you right now, although it hardly matters as it doesn't change the story: Annie and Owen are not set up to be romantic partners. Refreshingly, the story follows more of a friendship narrative in its need for connection, avoiding a particularly nasty narrative about finding your one and only through a recovery program. Eternal Sunshine was about how grief and memory were the key to avoiding future mistakes. Maniac, on the other hand, is more concerned with what it means to go through grief. Whether the grief of loss or the grief of self, both tumble through Maniac's surrealist play.
But this type of story has been told before, albeit not necessarily this weird. What makes Maniac work so well is its attention to characters. Annie is exceptionally well developed, where her worst tendencies and best tendencies come in relief of one another, two sides to a singular shape. Annie's own issues aren't just because of whatever it is she wants to work through, they are also in part the reason she has to work through anything at all. Annie's journey throughout the story is one of distrust, the liar who has lost a definite reflection when she looks at herself. She's a hazard to others as much as herself, and that is only made worse by her intelligence. In a shock I wasn't expecting, Annie is a perfect, textbook-ready example of how to properly write intelligent characters. You may not even be overtly aware she is intelligent, but the way she figures things out, figures her way around things in such a quick way - one where, instead of leading the audience through her brilliance, we are left trailing behind, studying her actions and going "a-ha!" - shows and doesn't tell us how that intelligence is expressed. It isn't worn on her sleeve as a badge, she isn't used as an exposition tool, she is simply resourceful and quick witted in how she observes and manages things in the world around her.
Owen, on the other hand, is a bit of a mixed bag who comes out on top, mostly because of his context within the story. Owen has a very different problem from Annie, one that traditional therapy would help manage, but would never "cure". Owen doesn't just struggle with his issues, but also how his issues affect and can be manipulated by others (as an aside, the actor who plays his brother is hilariously spectacular). Owen's reaction to his predicament is essentially severe depression and anti-social behavior. Owen is severely reserved, and spends a lot of the series mumbling his way through lines, something that may turn people off early on in the show. Jonah Hill does a good job with the character, allowing his complexity to unravel slowly while also dipping into wild changes as the show goes on. Emma Stone is by far and away the standout in the cast, but Jonah Hill does a more than an admirable job. Owen's character feels the closest to what you would consider a cliche "arthouse" character, but his use in the show shows rather well how Maniac stands apart from its lesser brethren. Owen doesn't exist in a vacuum, he isn't necessarily misunderstood, and he doesn't have some magic "damaged goods" ability to throw a much needed monkey wrench into people's lives to make them slow down and see how life really is, man. Owen is what he is, a troubled character who is a difficulty for himself as much as anyone else, but he is also an empathetic person. Owen cannot, with his empathy alone, make much of a difference, and that is key. It is the context with Annie and the trial that lets that empathy have significance, an important lesson for those sociopathic anti-socialites: you aren't special as some sort of exchange for your disadvantages. Owen requires a counterpoint in Annie, and watching that counterpoint develop and how it develops is a heartwarming experience.
"Heartwarming experience" sounds pandering, but Maniac rarely stoops to that level. It earns its heartwarming description by making it have humanistic significance, a cost and payoff that doesn't marginalize the complexities of its characters. Maniac isn't a perfect show, with its quirkiness sometimes overstepping itself when the characters should come in, and it feels like there are times when it should be hitting harder than it does. But what Maniac does well it does with an amazingly assured hand from a director who knows what he is doing. It is a shame I've only heard mild rumblings about this show, because there isn't really anything like it in the "streamed series" canon. It is a dash of Michel Gondry, a dash of Napoleon Dynamite, and a whole lot of heart rolled into something nice. It won't change your life, but it will surprise you.
8.5
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