“Celeste and Jesse Forever”

3.5 stars

Starring: Rashida Jones, Andy Samberg, Ari Graynor, Emma Roberts, Chris Messina, Rebecca Dayan, Elijah Wood, Will McCormack

Rating: R, for profanity, drug use and sexual candor

At first blush, however, the opposite seems true of the title characters in “Celeste and Jesse Forever” … and that’s the clever twist in this arch and perceptive script from Rashida Jones and Will McCormack.

Celeste (Jones) and Jesse (Andy Samberg) are introduced on what seems an average day. They’re bubbly, effervescent and completely at ease with each other. They enjoy many of the same artful pursuits, while cheerfully tolerating each other’s varying tastes. They finish sentences together, dissect restaurant menus in mock German accents, and share little physical rituals, from air-hugs to hilariously vulgar acts with tubes of lip gloss.

In a word, they’re cute enough to be cloying.

Unfortunately, they aren’t a couple. At least … not really.

Indeed, they’re long separated and in the final stages of divorce. But an inability to stay married hasn’t damaged their friendship, although this dichotomy falls outside the bounds of comfort for their respective best friends, Beth (Ari Graynor) and Tucker (Eric Christian Olsen), coincidentally engaged and soon to be wed.

We deduce that Celeste and Jesse once were perfectly matched, during the younger days that led to their own wedded bliss. But Celeste has matured beyond the giddy rush of carefree twentysomethingness; she has become the ambitious, workaholic co-owner of her own media consulting firm. She’s also a frequently quoted “trend analyzer” and the author of a book on same, provocatively titled “Shitegeist.”

The passive Jesse, alternatively, prefers the lackadaisical existence of an artist. He’ll blow off deadlines — even on projects for Celeste — in order to watch TV or get stoned with good buddy Skillz (McCormack), a casual pot dealer who is quite vexed by the medical marijuana clinics that are interfering with his business model.

Before long, we recognize what Beth has known all along: Although Celeste and Jesse superficially are the epitome of soul mates, their relationship is anything but healthy. He doesn’t want to move on, clearly hoping that she’ll change her mind and take him back. She can’t move on, panicked by the thought of truly losing the one guy who puts up with her.

She even lets Jesse live in the large studio in the yard behind the house they once shared together. He may as well be a goldfish in a bowl.

Jesse tries to date; Celeste doesn’t bother. She can be magnanimous about his efforts, because he invariably selects no-hopers such as the cute but deadly dull counter girl (Kate Krieger) at a local yogurt shop: clearly no threat.

Eventually, though, Jesse does slide into a serious new relationship, with Veronica (Rebecca Dayan), a woman he dated casually a few months earlier. They bump into each other again in a bookstore, and Celeste’s radar pings: This won’t be one of Jesse’s casual dates. Just like that, Celeste’s carefully constructed outer shell crumbles, and her inner shrew comes shrieking to the surface.

And we wonder how we ever could have admired her … or how Jesse ever could have fallen in love with her. Or whether she even deserves to be loved.

Jones, a personable actress with superb comic timing, has paid her dues on TV shows such as “Boston Public,” “Unhitched” and “The Office.” More recently, she has turned in small but memorable supporting performances in films such as “I Love You, Man,” “The Social Network” and “The Big Year.” She projects a perky, captivating blend of intelligence and understated sensuality; she’d definitely be the most engaging guest at a dinner party.

Based on this impressive scripting debut, she’s also a savvy writer with a perceptive ear for authentic dialogue and relationship angst.

Samberg, a longtime “Saturday Night Live” regular too frequently trolling in big-screen junk like “Hot Rod,” “What’s Your Number” and “That’s My Boy,” is a pleasant surprise here; I hope he makes wise use of this breakthrough role. We may not wholly approve of Jesse’s repeated failure to embrace responsible behavior, but we sympathize with him; he’s a nice guy trying to do the right thing. Like many of today’s twentysomethings, he simply needs to be pushed out of the nest.

Graynor, another talented young actress on a well-deserved rise, does marvelous things with her slow takes and looks of stunned disbelief, the latter often prompted by Celeste’s increasingly erratic behavior. Chris Messina, recently seen as the perplexed brother in “Ruby Sparks,” has an equally engaging role here as Paul, a guy who meets Celeste in a yoga class and tries — a bit too glibly — to kick off a relationship.

Emma Roberts delivers a strong performance as Riley, a sulky pop star-of-the-moment who has hired Celeste and Scott’s company to manage her image. At first blush, Riley seems oblivious … but she isn’t stupid, as Celeste unfairly (but typically) assumes. This particular character arc is delightful, because the two women initially loathe each other, with Riley even nailing Celeste with the insightful accusation of “contempt before investigation.”

But things change, and Riley eventually proves instrumental in Celeste’s awkward efforts to find her way back to personhood. That’s the core issue, of course: whether Celeste can rise above her self-absorbed persecution complex and become, well, likable.

Director Lee Toland Krieger paces his film well, often cleverly playing with our expectations. He also has the wisdom to resist the uber-tight close-ups that often mar this sort of story; he trusts his cast members to deliver the goods in gentler two-shots.

And I love the way co-scripters Jones and McCormack bring their narrative full circle, with some deft parallel structure in a final scene that echoes an earlier moment.

One large complaint, though: As was the case with Greta Gerwig’s character in “Lola Versus,” Jones’ Celeste spends far too much time indulging in recreational — or dispirited — drug and alcohol binging. It’s excessive to the point of medical concern, and therefore quite distracting. If this is an accurate portrayal of Generation Next, they’ll all lose their livers before turning 40.

Substance abuse issues aside, “Celeste and Jesse Forever” is engaging, frequently funny and often heartbreaking. Jones and McCormack concoct an emotional roller coaster ride with plenty of bumps, but that’s an accurate reflection of our real world. Relationships can be messy, particularly when those involved are in different places at different times.

Sometimes, sadly, love just isn’t enough.

— Read more of Derrick Bang’s film criticism at derrickbang.blogspot.com. Comment on this review at www.davisenterprise.com

“Ruby Sparks”

Four stars

Starring: Paul Dano, Zoe Kazan, Chris Messina, Annette Bening, Antonio Banderas, Steve Coogan, Elliot Gould, Alia Shawkat

Fresh, provocative concepts are one of cinema’s great treasures: unexpected delights — often in quiet, unassuming packages — that catch our fancy because they deserve to.

They’re usually script-driven, sometimes a debut screenplay by a young actor flying beneath the radar … but not for long. Think of Sylvester Stallone, stubbornly shepherding 1976’s “Rocky” to the big screen as a starring vehicle for himself. Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, and 1997’s “Good Will Hunting.” Sofia Coppola, and 2003’s “Lost in Translation” (not her first script, but certainly the Academy Award-winning effort that made her career). Michael Arndt, and 2006’s “Little Miss Sunshine.”

The latter also marked the directorial debut of Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris, a filmmaking team who cut their teeth on music videos and the MTV series “The Cutting Edge” before turning their deliciously quirky sensibilities to full-length features. They’re obviously selective, having waited six years before embarking on their sophomore effort.

And while “Ruby Sparks” certainly benefits from their capable guidance, this wonderfully idiosyncratic charmer will be immortalized as the film that transformed Zoe Kazan from a little-known young actress — you might remember her from supporting roles in 2008’s “Revolutionary Road” and 2009’s “It’s Complicated” — to a multi-hyphenate: star, writer and producer.

“Ruby Sparks” is Kazan’s tart, unapologetically preposterous update of the ancient Greek “Pygmalion” myth, which concerned a sculptor who fell in love with a statue he created, after it came to life. George Bernard Shaw turned this concept into a 1912 play that eventually begat the acclaimed 1956 Broadway musical “My Fair Lady,” which has remained famous — as a film and stage production — ever since.

In Kazan’s hands, the sculptor becomes novelist Calvin Weir-Fields (Paul Dano), a former literary wunderkind who sold his acclaimed first novel while still a teenager. But like other first-time author celebrities before him — Margaret Mitchell, J.D. Salinger and Harper Lee come to mind — the subsequent fame has proved stifling and artistically crippling. Now, a full decade later, Calvin still rides on the fame of his debut book, but he hasn’t been able to write anything new.

His brother, Harry (Chris Messina), figures that everything would get better if Calvin could move beyond the still-festering break-up of a longtime relationship, by dating again. Oddly, though, Calvin’s dreams have been pleasantly invaded by a personable young woman who first appears, missing one shoe, as a back-lit apparition on a beach. She continues to pop up when he sleeps, her presence becoming more tangible. More in self-defense than anything else, Calvin starts to write about this young woman, both recording his dreams and layering her with back-story and character traits.

Including a name: Ruby Sparks.

Novelists often discuss this very phenomenon: the enchanting allure of creating characters who become so real that they seem to leap off the page. In Calvin’s case, this is precisely what happens: He descends the stairs of his luxurious Hollywood Hills home one otherwise ordinary morning, to find Ruby (Kazan) asking if he’d like breakfast.

Thus far, Dano has held our attention as a bruised, socially inept and mildly idiosyncratic recluse: a guy with no friends, who’s more comfortable with his books than with the folks next door. What happens in the next 10 minutes is the make or break point for the rest of this film, as Calvin struggles with the ludicrous insanity of what seems to have happened.

Kazan (the writer) doesn’t shy from the absurdity of it all; she simply plunges forward and demands that we accept the impossible, just as Calvin insists that Harry do the same. Dano is note-perfect during this brief transitional stage — his efforts to evade Ruby in his own home are hilarious — and, rather quickly, we simply go with it. Why not?

And how could Calvin resist? Ruby is the epitome of his frustrated, yearning imagination; she can’t help but be the living, breathing personification of his ideal soul-mate. And, in truth, Kazan (the actress) imbues Ruby with a giddy, irresistible effervescence: She’s charismatic, appealingly flawed — bad taste in men, up to this point — and attuned to Calvin’s every mood.

Calvin adores her; she, in turn, mirrors that love. Everything is perfect.

For a time.

Novelists also discuss another phenomenon: the character who refuses to move in intended directions according to a pre-planned plot, who exerts a will of her own and behaves the way she desires, thank you very much. And so it is with Ruby, who eventually begins to transcend the details Calvin thought to grant her.

What happens next … ah, but that would be telling.

Dano and Kazan share marvelous chemistry: no surprise, since they’ve been an off-camera couple for five years. And while real-life couples sometimes don’t display the all-essential, meet-cute spontaneity of fictional on-screen lovers, Dano and Kazan — no doubt with help from directors Dayton and Faris — obviously worked their way around that issue. They share the necessary magic and, ah, radiant sparks; their antics — particularly early on, during montages set to French pop anthems such as “Ça plane pour moi” — are deliriously, impishly romantic.

Messina successfully navigates a very difficult and delicate role as Harry, the one person taken into Calvin’s confidence, who knows about Ruby’s actual origins. Harry becomes our surrogate: the cynical, dubious guy who initially believes that his brother needs to be committed, but then is forced to acknowledge the evidence of his own senses. Messina also delivers his barbed one-liners with panache, as Harry struggles to re-define his entire understanding of God’s universe.

Progressing through the buoyant introduction and increasingly unsettling second act, we simply can’t imagine where Kazan’s script will take us … although we also can’t shake the disturbing feeling that events will spiral out of control, and in the worst possible way. Regardless of such concerns, though, we’re truly, madly and deeply hooked, probably from the moment we meet Calvin, and certainly from the point Ruby enters his life.

Kazan’s screenplay is witty, clever, occasionally snarky and unerringly perceptive in its analysis of relationships, and how they’re sustained … or not. On top of which, she uncorks a final scene — two deft lines of dialogue — that is every bit as memorably exquisite as Shirley MacLaine’s insistence that Jack Lemmon “Shut up and deal,” as “The Apartment” concludes. No small feat, that.

Like “Little Miss Sunshine,” though, “Ruby Sparks” — however delightful — is a “small” film that may not bear the weight of the media tsunami destined to overwhelm it. Do yourself a favor: See it now, quickly, before the hype raises expectations too high.

— Read more of Derrick Bang’s film criticism at derrickbang.blogspot.com. Comment on this review at www.davisenterprise.com