Problemista Could Use a Little Less Tilda Swinton

I’m sure that a real person, or a few of them, provided the inspiration for Tilda Swinton’s character in Problemista, Julio Torres’s semi-autobiographical filmmaking debut. But I’m also convinced that she’s someone I worked for myself when, like Torres’s character Alejandro in the movie and like countless others, I was the right combination of young, broke, and desperate (that kind of assistant gig is not one you choose over other options). Problemista is a scruffy comedy about how Alejandro, a Salvadoran who moved to New York with dreams of designing toys, has to scramble for a way to stay in the country after losing the job that was sponsoring his visa. But, more than that, it’s an agonizingly vivid depiction of what it’s like to do the kind of job that’s akin to clinging to the back of a rampaging dragon that just might eat you if you get thrown off, to the point where it should come with a trigger warning: If you ever had to serve as an ad hoc IT specialist for a boss who treats technology as a personal affront, this movie may cause traumatic flashbacks.

Elizabeth (Swinton) is actually less a dragon than a hydra, which is the label she’s been given by her enemies, which include most of the world. She’s an art critic, though by the time Alejandro encounters her, Elizabeth’s full-time preoccupation is trying to preserve her late artist husband Bobby’s (RZA) legacy, an obsession that has driven her to the brink. One challenge is the fact that no one cares about Bobby’s work, which consisted of paintings of eggs; another is that Elizabeth is running out of money — when Bobby was diagnosed with cancer, he opted to have himself frozen by a clearly expensive cryogenics company. When Elizabeth bursts into the film, exuding chaos like a Pigpen dust cloud, her magenta hair flying and her iPhone flashlight on as she howls complaints, she does not look like someone anyone sensible would opt to work for. But Alejandro, who’s just gotten fired from the very cryo place that’s the subject of her wrath, has 30 days to find a new sponsor, which is the kind of situation that leaves one open to any possibility. He’s also — and this is Problemista’s diciest gambit — captivated by the hostility with which his new boss treats almost everyone she encounters.

Torres has a sly, whimsical sense of humor that he honed on SNL and showcased on the delightful, too-short-lived HBO series Los Espookys. The best parts of Problemista, which is a charming film without ever becoming more than semi-successful, bend the world through his perspective with the help of some Michel Gondry–esque DIY Surrealism. For instance: Alejandro is always coming up with toy ideas that he hopes to put to use in a position at Hasbro he’s unsuccessfully applied for, among them a Barbie who keeps her fingers crossed behind her back in a symbol of her untrustworthiness, and Cabbage Patch Dolls with smartphones they use to send anxious texts to one another. He lives in an amusingly terrible shared apartment in a bedraggled corner of Williamsburg where the living room feels like the scene of a low-effort but never-ending party. Craigslist, which he trolls for the cash gigs that are all he can work while in visa limbo, is embodied as a coy Larry Owens, who proffers opportunities to sell salon vouchers and do housecleaning fetish stints. When one of the clients at an immigration law office receives bad news, she fades into invisibility right there, literally disappeared by the bureaucratic machinery.

These offbeat touches are imaginative and droll, though Alejandro’s experiences come off less as a coherent journey and more as a series of memories that have been rendered through Torres’s distinctive lens. There’s real melancholy to Problemista’s depiction of what it’s like to be trapped in the half-existence of an uncertain immigration status, unable to be present when you might at any time be made to leave. But Alejandro the character never coheres, even when he speaks to his mother (Catalina Saavedra), an artist who frets from afar over the son she tried to shelter from difficulty. It’s as though the nebulous situation Alejandro finds himself in has left him unable to emerge as a fully formed person, instead caught waiting to find out where his future might lie. It’s Elizabeth who’s always in the clearest focus, with her avant-garde outfits, her uninformed but unswerving belief in the power of FileMaker Pro, and her temper. Elizabeth is capable of escalating any encounter into a fight, a quality that allows her to get her way more often than should be possible — a favorite technique of hers involves screaming at someone until they respond, then accusing them of yelling at her.

Swinton is brittle, funny, and frighteningly believable in the role of the capricious Elizabeth, though a little of that character goes a long way, and Problemista is far more enamored with her than I was. Elizabeth wants to set up a solo show for Bobby that will posthumously prove the value of his work and generate enough sales to keep him on ice. Alejandro agrees to help in exchange for her promising to sponsor his visa if it happens, but also because he sees the two of them as kindred spirits who both yearn to do the impossible. While Problemista finds a certain pathos in Elizabeth, who’s given everything to the memory of a husband who admits to his own selfishness, it’s never convincing in establishing that parallel. At the core of the film is the conclusion that Alejandro needs to get in touch with his inner difficult white lady, a moral that’s funnier in theory than it is in practice, given how abusive Elizabeth frequently is to people who have no power at all. Problemista convinces you that Torres adores this plissé-pleated monster despite all the grief she gives his onscreen incarnation, but never makes the case for why anyone else might. The film, like its protagonist, feels stuck in a nascent state, leaning into Elizabeth’s shrill voice because it’s not yet certain of its own.