Doppelgänger Paul

It’s ultimately impossible not to wonder just what filmmakers Dylan Akio Smith and Kris Elgstrand originally set out to accomplish with Doppelgänger Paul, as the movie, for the most part, comes off as an aggressively off-kilter and terminally strange piece of work that has absolutely no basis in reality. The storyline follows a struggling writer (Tygh Runyan’s Karl) as he becomes fixated with Brad Dryborough’s Paul, with the oddball friendship that ensues between the pair eventually resulting in a novel called A Book About How Much I Hate Myself. There’s little doubt that Doppelgänger Paul strikes a thoroughly oddball note right from the get-go, with the unusual atmosphere exacerbated by Smith and Elgstrand’s desperate attempts at eliciting laughs (eg Karl and Paul engage in a conversation while riding a kiddie train at the zoo). The surreal, deadpan tone ensures that the movie generally comes off as a love-it-or-hate-it endeavor, which effectively stymies the viewer’s ongoing efforts at wholeheartedly connecting to either of the protagonists (and there is, in turn, little doubt that the roadtrip-centric midsection possesses a distinctly flat quality). It’s the strong performances from both Runyan and Dryborough that ultimately prevent Doppelgänger Paul from becoming the totally disposable effort one might’ve feared, with the slow-but-steady abandonment of the relentless quirk that dominates the first half ensuring that the film does become semi-watchable as it progresses. (The passable vibe is destroyed in one fell swoop, however, as Karl and Paul engage in an eye-rollingly silly fight with another two characters.) In the end, it’s impossible to label Doppelgänger Paul as anything more than a movie made by hipsters for hipsters (ie your mileage may vary).

** out of ****