Serious People Review: Blending Absurdity with Emotional Depth

Serious People is a playful and absurd comedy-drama that dips its toes into surrealism, all while rooted in the messy, relatable struggles of modern life. At its heart is Pasqual, a music video director caught in a dilemma that feels almost too real for comfort: how does one juggle an impending career-making project with the impending arrival of their first child?

The answer, of course, is a convoluted, wildly inventive one—he hires a doppelgänger to take his place on set during a shoot for none other than Drake. It’s a scenario that blends absurdity with sharp social commentary, as Pasqual tries to manage both his career ambitions and his personal responsibilities, all the while watching his carefully crafted plans unravel around him.

The film’s narrative structure keeps you on your toes, playing with the conventions of workplace comedy and family drama, yet never fully committing to one genre or another. It’s this playful manipulation of genres and forms that makes Serious People feel fresh, even as it treads familiar territory.

The comedy that emerges from Pasqual’s interactions with his stand-in, Miguel—who quickly evolves from a simple body double to an unhinged force of chaos—reveals a sharp critique of identity in the entertainment world. The doppelgänger conceit, which could have easily veered into cliché, becomes a rich metaphor for the tensions between self-presentation and personal sacrifice, offering a moment of reflection on the price of success and fame.

A High Stakes Comedy of Errors

At the heart of Serious People lies the central conflict of Pasqual, a music video director, caught between the demands of an exciting career opportunity and the impending birth of his first child. His wife Christine is about to give birth, but Pasqual and his directing partner, Raul, have just received a high-profile job directing a music video for none other than Drake.

As any parent—or anyone with a demanding job—can empathize, this presents a dilemma: how does one be in two places at once? The career-motivated solution Pasqual comes up with is as ridiculous as it is creative—he hires a lookalike, Miguel, to stand in for him during the shoot. What follows is a whirlwind of miscalculations, as the doppelgänger’s antics quickly spiral out of control.

The premise itself—a man hiring a stand-in to handle the most important moments of his life—sets the stage for a comedy that plays on the absurdity of identity and the lengths people go to preserve their careers and social status. Pasqual’s decision to trust Miguel with this responsibility is rooted in his fear of missing out on both professional success and personal milestones. Yet, as is often the case with films that lean into this kind of absurd setup, the real drama begins when things inevitably go wrong.

Miguel, played by the charismatic Miguel Huerta, brings both humor and chaos to the screen. His initial charm soon gives way to his egotistical behavior as he starts to embrace the luxuries of Pasqual’s life. He’s no longer just a stand-in; he becomes an uncontrollable force, taking liberties on set and increasingly disrupting the dynamic between Pasqual and his partner Raul.

The tension builds in a way that feels both familiar and fresh—it’s not just about one man trying to juggle two lives, but about how one decision to substitute authenticity with surface-level performance can unravel everything.

The real punch of Serious People comes from how the situation escalates, revealing the fragile nature of both Pasqual’s personal and professional relationships. His decision to place his trust in Miguel becomes a metaphor for the ways in which modern life, especially in Hollywood, often prioritizes image over substance.

As Miguel steps into Pasqual’s shoes with increasing bravado, the cost of Pasqual’s inability to reconcile his two worlds becomes painfully evident. What starts as a well-intentioned scheme for balance ends in a farcical spiral, drawing attention to the inevitable consequences of such self-deception.

Character Depth in the Absurdity: Exploring the Core of Serious People

Serious People offers a fascinating mix of characters who, despite the absurdity of their situations, feel deeply relatable and human. At the center of it all is Pasqual, played by co-director Pasqual Gutierrez, whose internal conflict drives much of the film’s emotional core. On the surface, Pasqual is a man trying to balance his career—one that has finally caught the attention of big names like Drake—with his role as an expectant father.

His dilemma, however, is far more than a simple juggling act. The emotional and physical strain of trying to be in two places at once—the world of music videos and the world of family—becomes almost palpable, particularly as his decision to hire a doppelgänger spirals out of control.

Pasqual’s motivations are clear: he’s not just trying to succeed in his career, but he wants to be there for Christine during the birth of their child. Yet as the narrative unfolds, we see how these well-meaning intentions are warped by his unwillingness to truly face the consequences of dividing himself. Pasqual’s struggle represents a modern-day anxiety about identity and self-presentation, where being present often means sacrificing authenticity.

Then there’s Miguel, the doppelgänger, played by Miguel Huerta, who injects a dose of chaos and humor into the film. Initially, Miguel’s charm is undeniable—he’s the type of guy who knows how to navigate a social situation with ease and enthusiasm. But it doesn’t take long for Miguel’s initial, almost naïve, attempt to mimic Pasqual’s persona to shift into something far more self-serving.

As the film progresses, Miguel evolves from a stand-in on a music video set into a force that threatens the integrity of Pasqual’s personal and professional life. His increasing confidence and erratic behavior highlight the dangers of unchecked ambition in the entertainment industry, and he becomes a kind of satire of the creative egos that populate Hollywood.

The character of Miguel taps into a broader cultural anxiety about the superficiality and self-promotion that often dominate the creative world. His behavior doesn’t just serve as a plot catalyst—it reflects the broader transactional nature of identity in an image-obsessed culture.

Raul, played by Raul Sanchez, is the film’s grounding force, the voice of reason in a world that is rapidly spinning out of control. He’s the one who constantly urges Pasqual to reconsider his risky decision to bring Miguel into the fold, but his frustrations are often ignored.

Raul’s role as the stabilizer makes him a key emotional anchor in the story, even as he becomes increasingly disillusioned with Pasqual’s actions. His relationship with Pasqual is layered, highlighting the fragility of professional partnerships in the face of personal crises. Raul’s loyalty to Pasqual is tested as the situation worsens, and it’s clear that the friendship they share is on the brink of collapse.

Christine, Pasqual’s wife, brings the most poignant emotional weight to the film. Played by Christine Yuan, she is both the anchor and the mirror to Pasqual’s fractured world. Her frustrations with Pasqual’s neglect—both physical and emotional—are quietly devastating. Throughout the film, Christine’s character serves as a grounding counterpoint to Pasqual’s increasingly chaotic life.

While Pasqual flails to maintain some semblance of balance between career and family, Christine’s needs take a backseat. She’s left to manage the increasingly ridiculous situation with grace, but her own internal conflict—about being both the neglected partner and the one holding everything together—is palpable.

In many ways, Christine represents the cost of Pasqual’s decisions and the emotional toll that work-life imbalance takes on those closest to us. She doesn’t just serve as a passive victim to Pasqual’s selfishness—she embodies the voice of reason and emotional labor that is often overlooked in the pursuit of success.

Themes and Symbolism in Serious People

Serious People weaves several layers of thematic complexity into its otherwise comedic narrative, each one poking at the absurdities of modern life. At its core, the film tackles the universal struggle of balancing personal life and career, but with a satirical edge that exposes just how far someone will go to maintain the illusion of having it all.

Pasqual’s attempt to be in two places at once—juggling the birth of his child and a career-making opportunity with Drake—becomes a metaphor for the unmanageable expectations placed on individuals in today’s fast-paced, achievement-oriented culture. The absurdity of the situation, while hilarious on the surface, quickly transforms into a poignant commentary on the cost of neglecting personal relationships for the sake of professional ambition.

The movie doesn’t shy away from showing the emotional toll this imbalance takes on Pasqual’s marriage, as Christine becomes increasingly sidelined by his obsession with success. The irony, of course, is that by trying to split himself between these two worlds, Pasqual ends up failing both as a husband and a professional. It’s a biting reflection on modern work-life dynamics, especially in the creative industries where ambition can overshadow the importance of human connection.

The theme of identity and duality runs through the film like a thread, manifesting most prominently in the character of Miguel, Pasqual’s doppelgänger. At first, Miguel is presented as an amusing, if somewhat naive, stand-in—an eager substitute who simply wants to fill in for Pasqual in the way one would take on a role in a film. However, as the story unfolds, Miguel becomes more than just a physical substitute.

He is a reflection of Pasqual’s hidden desires, flaws, and insecurities—embodied in his unchecked ambition and growing self-interest. The presence of a “stand-in” for Pasqual not only exposes the fragility of identity in a world obsessed with image but also asks uncomfortable questions about how much of ourselves we are willing to sacrifice in pursuit of success. Miguel isn’t just a doppelgänger; he is a symbol of what Pasqual might have become had he not conformed to societal expectations of career and responsibility.

The film also delivers a sharp satire of the Hollywood and music video industry, poking fun at its superficiality and excess. Miguel, as a stand-in, inadvertently exposes the hollow nature of the entertainment world. His behavior—loud, crass, and driven by a desire for recognition—mirrors the way fame and success often elevate the most self-serving individuals.

Miguel’s antics, including his obsession with Marvel-like aesthetics for a music video, lampoon the industry’s shallow fascination with spectacle over substance. Meanwhile, the portrayal of Drake, reduced to a faceless figure whose involvement is filtered through Zoom and a PA holding a laptop, underscores the absurdity of celebrity in the modern age.

The decision to depict Drake in this disembodied, almost comedic light satirizes the disconnection between public personas and their real-world counterparts, emphasizing the absurdity of fame in a time where it often feels more like a brand than a person.

Directorial Style and Performances: Blending Realism and Absurdity

Pasqual Gutierrez and Ben Mullinkosson’s directorial approach in Serious People is one that embraces the power of improvisation while maintaining a strong sense of narrative focus. The film’s spontaneous, almost documentary-like feel stands in contrast to its over-the-top absurdities, creating a delightful tension between the natural and the surreal.

This blending of documentary-style realism with staged absurdity allows the film to feel both grounded and larger-than-life. The directors capture the day-to-day chaos of Pasqual’s life with a sense of rawness and authenticity, especially in moments where the characters engage in unscripted dialogue or navigate the absurdity of their circumstances. Yet, these moments of improvisation never detract from the film’s thematic focus; they enhance the humor and make the emotional beats feel more earned.

The contrast between naturalistic performances and exaggerated situations is one of the film’s key strengths. The actors, aware of the heightened reality in which their characters operate, maintain a sense of sincerity even when the narrative tilts into the surreal. This creates a humor that feels grounded in real human emotion, rather than relying on slapstick for its effect.

Gutierrez, Mullinkosson, and their cast manage to strike a fine balance: the absurdity is heightened by their ability to stay true to the emotional core of each scene, which not only keeps the audience laughing but also brings a layer of genuine poignancy to the film.

Performances are central to Serious People’s success, and the leads deliver standout work. Gutierrez as Pasqual exudes a charisma that is both charming and frustrating. His portrayal of a man torn between career and family is both relatable and infused with a quiet desperation that elevates the film’s stakes. Miguel Huerta as Miguel provides much of the comedic energy, bringing a chaotic, overconfident energy to his role as the stand-in who gradually morphs into a larger-than-life caricature.

His scenes on set are a highlight, particularly when he veers from well-intentioned buffoonery to full-blown egotism. The comedic timing between Gutierrez and Huerta in these scenes is electric, with Huerta’s antics playing off of Gutierrez’s increasingly exasperated reactions.

Christine Yuan, who plays Pasqual’s wife Christine, brings depth and nuance to a character who could have easily become a stereotypical nagging partner. The real-life couple’s offscreen chemistry is palpable, lending the emotional scenes between Pasqual and Christine a raw, authentic edge.

Her exasperation with Pasqual’s neglect is both tender and biting, particularly in a scene where she confronts him about his misplaced priorities. Yuan’s performance grounds the film’s more absurd moments, offering a steady emotional anchor that keeps the narrative from veering too far into farce.

Cinematography and Visual Style: Capturing the Absurd and the Real

The cinematography of Serious People masterfully navigates the tension between the absurd and the grounded, mirroring the film’s broader thematic concerns. The visual style alternates between intimate close-ups and expansive, observational shots, allowing the camera to reflect the characters’ inner turmoil while also offering a broader view of their chaotic world.

Close-ups are particularly effective in capturing the raw emotions of the characters, especially Pasqual, whose internal conflict is often written across his face in moments of quiet frustration. These tight shots pull the audience into his personal struggles, making the stakes feel immediate and deeply human.

Conversely, the wider shots—whether set in the sprawling music video set or in the more confined spaces of Pasqual’s home—serve as a distancing mechanism, emphasizing the chaos that unfolds when his personal and professional worlds collide. This push and pull between the intimate and the vast mirrors the narrative’s own conflict, as Pasqual finds himself caught between two worlds that seem increasingly difficult to reconcile.

The camera work not only complements the film’s tone but also adds a layer of satire to the narrative. One standout sequence, for example, is when Pasqual and Miguel’s confrontation on set escalates into an absurd farce, with the camera cutting between exaggerated, larger-than-life reactions and deadpan deliveries. The contrast in these shots heightens the sense of absurdity, highlighting how out of place the over-the-top world of music video production feels in the midst of Pasqual’s personal crisis.

In terms of space, the film uses its settings as a visual reflection of Pasqual’s emotional and narrative shifts. His home, once a symbol of stability and impending fatherhood, becomes a chaotic backdrop as his professional obligations overrun his personal life. The physical space of the home—cluttered with baby gear and interrupted by phone calls from the set—mirrors the emotional clutter Pasqual experiences as he tries to juggle his responsibilities.

Similarly, the music video set, with its sterile, over-the-top aesthetic, represents the cold, transactional nature of the entertainment world. The contrast between these spaces becomes a visual metaphor for the struggle between personal fulfillment and the demands of a high-pressure career. Through these spaces, Serious People visually reinforces its central themes, underscoring the dissonance between the life Pasqual wants and the one he’s created.

Final Thoughts: Absurdity with Heart

Serious People deftly balances humor with emotional depth, offering a satire that never loses sight of the human experience at its core. The film’s absurd premise—a man hiring a doppelgänger to stand in for him while juggling career and family—could have easily veered into farce, but the directors manage to ground the comedy in real, relatable emotions.

The central conceit of the doppelgänger becomes more than just a vehicle for laughs; it acts as a lens through which the film explores profound societal themes like identity, authenticity, and the pressure to succeed in a world that demands constant self-presentation. In this way, Serious People speaks directly to our current moment, where the lines between personal and professional lives are increasingly blurred, and where the pursuit of success often comes at the cost of personal fulfillment.

Despite its lighthearted approach, the film leaves a lasting impact through its nuanced examination of modern anxieties. Pasqual’s desperate attempts to balance two competing aspects of his life, and the chaos that ensues, resonate far beyond the screen. While Serious People is certainly a comedy, it doesn’t shy away from exposing the cracks in the façade of modern ambition, offering a bittersweet reflection on the cost of neglecting what truly matters.

In the film’s final moments, there’s an air of ambiguity that lingers—a sense that, while Pasqual may find some sort of resolution, the pressures of his life will always be there, lurking beneath the surface. It’s this quiet, poignant note that gives the film its emotional resonance, leaving viewers to reflect on their own relationships with work, identity, and self-worth long after the credits roll.