Films for Breakfast

There’s a running joke in film criticism about calling certain movies “endangered” – the kind we supposedly need more of. But in the case of The Baltimorons, that claim feels spot on. This is a small, quiet film that lives entirely through its characters, asking us to spend a single day in the company of two unlikely leads. It’s modest in scope yet full of heart, and there’s a beauty in how much it gives without ever demanding too much of its audience.

The story follows Cliff (Michael Strassner), a recovering alcoholic caught between practical stability and the dream of becoming a comedian. On Christmas Eve, an accident leaves him missing a tooth, leading him to the only open dentist in town: Didi (Liz Larsen). What begins as a strange, intimate encounter quickly evolves into a day-long connection, equal parts banter and vulnerability. The two couldn’t be more different – Cliff is in his mid-20s, struggling yet constantly trying to get a laugh out of those around him, while Didi is a middle-aged divorcée at a professional and personal crossroads – yet the film takes the fact that they should have nothing in common with one-another and works with that.

Much of the films’ success is thanks to the performances. Strassner and Larsen, both with relatively limited filmographies, bring a lived-in humanity to their roles. Their chemistry is palpable, their banter sharp yet natural, and by the end you feel as though you’ve truly known these people. The script, co-written by Strassner and Jay Duplass, deepens that effect with dialogue that feels conversational rather than scripted, weaving two very different lives together in ways that feel both surprising and completely right.

Duplass’s return to directing is equally rewarding. His signature intimacy shines through in the close framing of characters, drawing us into their vulnerabilities without ever feeling intrusive. Jonathan Bregel’s cinematography amplifies that closeness, balancing the warmth of the holidays with the raw edges of the characters’ inner struggles. The film doesn’t shy away from darker terrain, especially in its depiction of Cliff’s battle with relapse and the moral grayness of his choices. His relationship with Brittany (Olivia Luccardi), who stood by him at his lowest, adds another layer of complexity — one that the film refuses to resolve neatly.

What makes The Baltimorons so effective is how deceptively simple it is. With a focus on simply two strong performances, a sharp script, and Duplass’s understated direction, it manages to say something profound about connection, loneliness, and second chances. It’s the kind of film that proves the sensibilities of independent cinema are needed in this day-and-age.