Greener Grass (2019)
Director: Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe
Screenwriters: Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe
Starring: Jocelyn DeBoer, Dawn Luebbe, Beck Bennett, Neil Casey
Greener Grass arrives as a carefully calibrated exercise in surreal, suburban satire that treats its absurd premise with deadpan sincerity. From the first, disarming moment—when Lisa (Dawn Luebbe) calmly asks her neighbor Jill (Jocelyn DeBoer) if she can have Jill’s baby, Madison, and Jill obliges—the film commits to an off-kilter reality in which social norms are inverted and the unexpected is mundane. That tonal rigor is what keeps the comedy fresh and the satire sharp throughout.
Rather than following a traditional plot arc, Greener Grass unfolds like an extended sequence of linked sketches centered on Jill’s fall from social prominence to humiliation. The film’s setting is a manicured, upper-middle-class neighborhood where everyday activities—birthday parties, sports matches, candlelight vigils, recitals, television watching—carry outsized emotional and narrative weight. Actions have consequences that reverberate through later scenes, giving the sketch-like structure an unexpected continuity and momentum.
One of the film’s most compelling dynamics is its gendered social order: women run households and often exert stronger wills, while the men are playfully hapless and goofy. This inversion underpins much of the humor and provides a consistent framework for the characters’ interactions. DeBoer and Luebbe exploit those norms to critique suburban affectation and the performative nature of social standing.
The collaborative spirit behind the film is evident at every turn. DeBoer and Luebbe—who came from sketch comedy backgrounds—assembled a team that embraced the movie’s peculiar logic. Costume designer Lauren Oppelt developed a clear visual code by color-coding families: men wear blue, women wear pink, and children blend maternal color schemes with gender cues, a conscious choice that visually reinforces family identity and social signaling. Cinematographer Lowell A. Meyer was given wide creative latitude to support the directors’ vision; his decision to move from softer, dreamlike imagery to a crisper, more clinical look as the story progresses mirrors Jill’s growing clarity about her unsettling world. Production designer Leigh Poindexter filled sets with sly visual jokes and small details that reward close viewing and invite repeat watches.
Performances are uniformly committed and precise, which is essential for comedy of this tone. Luebbe and DeBoer lean into an exaggerated, performative cheerfulness—characters who are themselves performing contentment—which makes the darker undercurrents land harder. Beck Bennett brings a straight-faced absurdity that complements the leads, while the supporting cast consistently sustains the film’s unique balance of whimsy and menace. The result is a collection of performances that feel as much like intentional caricature as they do deeply embedded characters.
What distinguishes Greener Grass is its meticulous attention to detail. Small choices—an actor’s idiosyncratic fall kept in the final cut because it felt truthful, color palettes that code relationships, set decorations that double as visual punchlines—add up to a fully realized absurdist world. Even viewers who find the brand of humor too strange to laugh at will likely admire the craft on display: the film is clearly the product of deliberate design, from wardrobe to lighting to prop work.
As a feature debut for DeBoer and Luebbe, the film announces two distinctive voices in contemporary comedy filmmaking. Their background in sketch work shows in the film’s rhythmic pacing and in its ability to sustain tonal strangeness without lapsing into incoherence. The movie dares to be specific in its weirdness, and that specificity is what gives it personality and staying power.
In short, Greener Grass is a bold, inventively crafted comedy that rewards attentive viewers. It’s an exemplary piece of surreal satire—rich in design, performance, and precise comedic instincts—worthy of repeated viewings and of following the careers of its makers. Whether you delight in its peculiar sense of humor or simply appreciate its craftsmanship, the film stands out as a daring and polished debut.
22/24