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In Matt Barats’ “Anchors Aweigh,” a caustic alt-comedian is left adrift after his failed proposal, prompting him to revisit old footage from his college days and ruminate on his arrested development. It’s a lot less
serious than it sounds, in part because Barats’ self-insert — who he also plays — has a sardonic cadence that turns each observation into a punchline, regardless of how few of them land.
Outstretched despite its mere 71 minutes, the film occasionally takes the form of a documentary shot by Barats’ unnamed protagonist, a comedian in his late thirties who hopes to marry Megan (Serena Profaci), a 25-year-old heiress and Broadway hopeful. It also steps outside of this form on occasion, taking on a slightly more traditional appearance, but Barats’ rule-breaking results in contiguous (if not entirely purposeful) scenes that wander through his character’s ennui. Megan’s awkward response to his sudden proposal sends him spiraling, both creatively and existentially, as he both revisits MiniDV footage from his teen years while shooting new, half-formed solo sketches and anecdotes with what appears to be the same camera.
His outdated tech, with its visual noise, is the perfect encapsulation of a millennial who hasn’t moved forward beyond his snark-filled response to the Bush years. However, Barats’ pointed self-awareness about his protagonist’s naïveté doesn’t stop the character (and thus, the film at large) from feeling awkward and repetitive, even if this is partially the point.
When the acerbic lead rents a boat on a Marina by a New York airport, the movie gestures toward a mockumentary in the vein of John Wilson, or a send-up of Ross McElwee, but its secondary and tertiary characters — marina residents whom Barats interacts with — seldom stick around long enough to make a lasting impact. It isn’t long before the story snaps back towards malformed romance, the self-conscious tone of which does little more than exacerbate its narrative flaws.
Tonally, there’s something quite fascinating about a man looking back on his late teenage years and cringing while still seeing a part of himself. In that vein, the interspersing of Barats’ observations between lingering shots of water and some idiosyncratic extras makes for an intriguing texture. However, “Anchors Aweigh” feels stuck halfway between an idea for a short sketch, and something much longer and more emotionally detailed. It never quite scales this height, and though it occasionally peeks into surreal territory (thanks in part to Simon Hanes’ dreamlike score), it never tumbles headfirst with the requisite energy. It’s amusing, but never raucous.
A gentle sentimentality shines through the dripping irony at times, but the winking knowingness with which every line, scene and shot unfolds ends up pushing it back behind the curtain. That Barats crafts a self-reflexive, semi-autobiographical character this flawed and callow makes for a remarkable starting point, but despite the film’s many winding tributaries, it never reaches a sufficiently smart, funny or enlightening destination, remaining ironically unmoored until the end.
