Douchebag

Sam Nussbaum lives in Los Angeles with his fiancée, Steph, presenting a life that feels steady and thoughtful, shaped in part by his self-professed dedication to the environment and a vegetarian diet. Yet beneath the calm surface lies a hint of strain: he hasn’t spoken to his younger brother, Tom, for two years, a distance Sam attributes to a fight over their dog, Angela, and a memory Sam has tried to keep in the past. Steph, curious about the friction she’s heard about, meets Tom—an aspiring artist who still depends on his parents for support—and she quickly realizes there is history there, a history that Sam tries to shield from her. The two brothers, with Steph’s arrival, forge a pledge to keep their rivalry at a low simmer for the sake of the upcoming wedding, hoping that the occasion will quietly mend old wounds.

While they sift through Tom’s fifth-grade yearbook, Sam and Steph stumble upon a name that lands at the center of Tom’s past: Mary Barger, Tom’s childhood sweetheart. In a bid to smooth the path to reconciliation, they suggest that Tom invite Mary to the wedding as his date, a plan that runs into the reality of California’s many Marys: there are three. The search becomes a comical odyssey of mistaken identities and awkward meetings. The first Mary, encountered in Santa Monica, greets Sam with flowers and an uncomfortable moment when she seems to misread his intentions, leading to a tense exchange that neither brother wants to repeat. Undeterred, they press on to the second Mary, in Palm Springs, who works at a roller rink. She denies being Tom’s childhood sweetheart but agrees to a spontaneous outing with him; the evening is pleasant enough, and Mary admits they might have enjoyed each other’s company, but she ultimately concludes they would not be a good match.

As the trio moves forward, Steph stops at a tuxedo shop and discovers a practical truth: Tom had never been properly fitted for the wedding, despite his insistence that everything is in place. The road to San Diego becomes a moving canvas of small revelations. At a teahouse along the way, Sam flirts with another patron, Sarah, who offers her number with a light, inviting touch. Tom watches as Sam breaks his own vegetarian creed by eating a hamburger, a simple act that crystallizes the deeper tensions between the brothers. Transported by the drive, they agree to press on, with Sam insisting they stop at a motel even though their destination is not far away. The night wears on with beer and a sense that the trip is revealing more than it is visiting.

The next morning brings a moment of reckoning: Sam slips away to a party, where he ends up having sex with Sarah. He returns later to a tense, unanswered question from Tom, who wants to know what happened between the brothers, and a confrontation that spills out into the open. Sam confesses that Angela—the dog Sam had once valued as family—was a woman to whom he was attracted, and he explains the complicated, troubling chemistry that led to his actions. Tom, feeling betrayed and disoriented, abandons Sam in the moment, and Sam seeks solace with Sarah, admitting that he recognizes he is not a good person. The truth lands hard, but the two brothers eventually find their way back to each other, setting aside the immediate hurt to attempt repair.

Together, Sam and Tom pursue the last Mary—the one who would be the “real” Mary Barger, the one Tom had carried in his memory. They drive to her home, but Tom’s fatalistic sense of the moment makes him tell Sam that it might not matter after all, and they choose to head back toward Los Angeles. The emotional calculus of the journey weighs heavily on Steph, who declares that she does not wish to get married after all, a stark reversal that puts Sam’s own vows under renewed scrutiny. He admits he needs to change, to grow beyond the version of himself that has caused pain in those around him. In a personal decision that underscores a broader commitment to change, Sam moves out, even as he vows to keep a weekly garden ritual as a small, steady gesture for Steph.

The trip leaves an indelible mark on all of them, especially Sam, who later visits Tom at an art gallery displaying illustrations that capture the road trip they undertook together. The scenes of their journey—the teahouse confidences, the roller rink flirtation, the motel nights, and the long conversations at the end of the day—drift into a portrait of two brothers learning to navigate love, responsibility, and the imperfect hope of reconciliation. The resolution is not a tidy one, but it is honest: a family trying to reconfigure itself in the wake of mistakes, with Sam accepting the need to improve, Steph choosing her own path, and Tom continuing to shape his art and his life beyond the shadow of what might have been.

In the end, the road trip becomes more than a sequence of destinations; it becomes a mirror for growth. Sam’s commitment to change—expressed through his plan to garden for Steph weekly and his willingness to confront his own flaws—points to a future in which love, patience, and a touch of stubborn honesty might coexist. The film closes on a quiet note of possibility: two brothers still connected by history, a fiancée who asked for clarity, and an individual journey toward becoming a person who can act with more kindness, more awareness, and a steadier sense of responsibility.

Last Updated: November 22, 2025 at 15:58