When it comes to a working actor who humorously perfects the modern guy as a hip scepter for perpetual thought and frazzled irritation, Adam Goldberg holds the key to today’s conflicted kingdom. Like his characters dating back to a break out role in Dazed and Confused and on to an ace performance in 2007’s 2 Days in Paris (a rare romantic comedy that is meaningful and tolerable), part of Goldberg’s charm seems channeled via friendly reluctance. He continues to mine such neurotic territory playing the lead in (Untitled), a surprisingly accessible quasi-satire of the contemporary New York art world.

Portraying a struggling artist named Adrian Jacobs who composes abstract atonal music—who might kill himself at age 30 for the sake of integrity—Goldberg captures, often in silence, the nagging doubts and petty contradictions of a personality burdened by the mythical qualifiers for “real art” and the “true artist.” Standing in face of this absorbed ethos is Adrian’s brother, who rakes in tons of dough and a thick coat of normalcy with abysmal paintings sold to tastel