“Fourth of July,” about a recovering alcoholic jazz musician who confronts his parents during a holiday get-together, is the kind of indie movie that doesn’t get made much anymore, with good reason. The movie represents a comeback attempt of sorts for director/co-writer/costar Louis C.K., whose career was briefly shaken in 2017 when he was accused of (and admitted to) incidents of sexual misconduct, including masturbating and undressing in front of women he worked with. He very quickly recovered to do comedy specials and tours, and recently won a Grammy for Best Comedy Album, but this listless, disorganized movie about a boring man and his loathsome family is onanism of a different kind. Joe List, who co-wrote the screenplay, stars as Jeff. He lives in New York City, is a couple of years into recovery, has a stable relationship with his girlfriend Beth (Sarah Tollemache, List’s real-life partner), and is at a point where he feels confident enough to begin mentoring other people in recovery. But he keeps having recurring nightmares about injuring pedestrians with his car, causing them to flee before he can find out who they are or discern how badly they’ve been hurt. Louis C.K. plays the therapist that Joe tells about this dream. (Make of that what you will.) Jeff doesn’t like talking about his family. And he makes a point of refusing to speak of his mother. The subject of his upbringing is a minefield he won’t dare enter. The film takes its sweet time getting to the point where Jeff chases personal catharsis by driving upstate to his hometown in rural Maine to confront his father (Robert Walsh), mother (Paula Plum) and extended family (which include Nick Di Paolo as an uncle and Richard O’Rourke as Jeff’s grandfather). They’re a gaggle of reactionaries who greet Jeff’s arrival with a torrent of casual homophobia and other bigoted sentiments. Jeff is deeply uncomfortable in their presence, as well he should be, but he still feels obligated to face them and force them to examine their role in damaging his psyche. But by that point in the film, we may have already given up hope of seeing a story about family told with insight, wit, and originality. C.K. and List spend forever and a day on little vignettes about Jeff’s life with Beth (which is bland) and his recovery group, and there are scenes exploring his work as a live musician that don’t contribute anything to our understanding of the characters (though it’s nice to see live jazz performed onscreen at length, even if the piano fakery is obvious). Once Jeff gets upstate, the listless self-indulgence of the filmmaking continues, with the filmmakers indulging in pointlessly fussy cutaway editing (particularly during piano scenes) and expressionistic lighting (green signifies anxiety or something). These and other filmmaking tools (including the widescreen imagery) seem meant to enrich a thin story that clearly meant a great deal to the people who wrote it. But the sum total of “Fourth of July” has the same effect on the viewer as being trapped at a party with a nice but dull person who decides to tell you their entire life story without even asking your name. C.K. attained the peak of his fame as a progressive comedian, but pivoted immediately after the revelations of his misconduct and started pandering to right-wing comedy audiences, blasting “woke” culture (a source of economic recovery for stand-ups who believe they’ve been “canceled”). So there’s a meta layer to the story here, no matter how strenuously the director claims that he just wants to get back to telling stories. But if you take his mission statement at face value, the film comes off even more poorly. This is the kind of earnest but inept and obliviously indulgent indie flick that a film festival’s artistic director would program in full awareness of its deficiencies, because they thought the name of someone associated with the project (in this case, the director) will put butts in seats. Even though, lacking such a pedigree, the film would never be seen by anyone outside of the director’s family, many of whom would only be pretending to like it. Now playing in select theaters.
