Boring Barry & His Imaginary Friend: Big Emptiness and Small Hopes in Depression Dramedy

But for the Twilight blue colour palette, Drew Bierut’s Boring Barry & His Imaginary Friend opens like a rom-com: optimistic radio presenter chirping about the morning, soft dissolves, and fluid camerawork. And then the reality cuts in: Barry, who is tired of it all. Though he—and his imaginary friend—are still comedic. 

The 14-minute narrative follows awkward, angry, snippy, miserable Barry (Timothy Taylor) through the thick of his depression induced apathy with no one but his own snarky/supportive head (a quippy Mark Renaudin, also the screenwriter) for company. He hates all his neighbours, hates his nondescript job which keeps him afloat in L.A., and he most hates his failure to pursue a career in standup comedy. That’s sound material right there, but the fear of failing and exhaustion of trying is a vat of syrup and Barry is drowning. So instead, the burns and barbs are directed at himself and his own Odd Couple situation (plus Matthew Perry and Rupert Grint, caught in Barry’s self-loathing spiral against their will, or knowledge). When the last remaining audience dries up, Barry is left completely alone to face the relentless onslaught of time, absence, and isolation in a montage with oppressive sound design. The breakdown that follows is long overdue. 

Though understated amidst all the ranting and sarcasm, there is a strain of sincerity running through like dappled sunlight: a photo of Barry’s family and old homevideos of his childhood, which give him the crucial, humble push to get back up. The film’s brand of optimism is modest. No dramatic overtures to pull Barry through, though the colour scheme gradually shifts from Twilight blue to Eclipse brown, and finally, to happy romcom hues. He can have this one thing, as a treat. 

Boring Barry & His Imaginary Friend is rightfully modest in its prognosis. It does not keep anyone to admire (except, unexpectedly, the archetypal wise, old, anonymous Asian man) because the hole Barry finds himself languishing in is merciless, and the buy-in is alienation from as many sources of hope or help as possible. The only way out is painfully Sisyphean. The rewards are small, if incremental. 

But there are bright rom-com lights at the end of that tunnel. 

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