Seeing as he's much more myth to me than man, Joe Swanberg, in my mind, is a Prince Stepan Arkadyevitch Oblonsky, the affable and engaging though consummately faulted womanizer of Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina. I say this based on one slight statement Tolstoy makes of his character. It's that when Oblonsky comes home to his heartbroken wife, who now for the first time learns of her husband's infidelities, he can do nothing in reaction but smile. When I read the passage months back, the image that came to mind immediately was of Swanberg, sitting on a couch, computer on lap, in character as Tim in his devastatingly funny and intelligent sophomore feature LOL. Tim's just that kind of a likable swagger bottom, that guy who smiles in the face of adversity and despite your best inclinations to despise him, you find yourself always on his side.

Although I'm not sure when or how it's happened, I find myself now a Joe Swanberg apologist. His impressions of me I'm sure, and I can categorically confirm them with direct experience, are by no means complimentary, and while this at another time, in another space of mind would deeply have concerned me, I find myself incapable of mustering anything more for him than both the deepest respect for his work as well as the deepest suspicion. Swanberg is that wild card for me, a filmmaker of division, a visionary--and, yes I do say that honestly and without hesitation--who appears oftentimes not know what his vision is.

In reading Michelle Moriarity's LOL review today, I found myself amused and accepting of her opinion but also in complete disagreement on many points. With LOL more so than his other works, Swanberg exercises complete control over his content. The story is so well drawn and the experimental sections so easily added that although there's an element of play to it all, there's no artifice. By pinpointing the dissociation and delusion that technology to a certain extent encourages, Swanberg has hit upon the modern dilemma without didacticism or showiness. It's a film that demands acknowledgment, its social message so clear that it requires self-reflection, and with that, Swanberg's craftsmanship is so carefully molded, if done yet with self-consciously primitive and lo-fi sculpting, that it's difficult not to proclaim him one of the pivotal young filmmakers working today. In fact, if I've my facts straight, after seeing LOL film journalist Karina Longworth said as much. Why then do I, with this opinion, defend Swanberg to any greater extent?

While I have no definitive answer to this, I make the guess that it's because I'm defending the filmmaker to myself. It's as if there are two halves of me fighting out the Swanbergian battle. On the one side, I often find that I don't trust his artistic intentions, particularly with regards to Hannah. On the other, I can't help but see his somewhat stumbled upon although ever-expanding genius, the quiet moment of resignation, for example, between Swanberg's Ben and Eve Rounds' Casey in the Young American Bodies season one finale. There's such a desperation to that moment, and it's handled so delicately, so kindly that it could only be done by some sort of master, no matter how young, impetuous or exhibitionist he may be. It's a moment I wish perhaps Amy Taubin had taken more into account in her scathing--albeit selectively humorous-- assessment of Swanberg's work.

There's no doubt that Swanberg is that undeniable voice, that filmmaker who's as likely to trick you as seduce you, gain your trust and then break it, whether he means to or not, and it's that reason I'm an apologist. However fretfully, I'm just waiting to see what he'll do next.