Ryan McNeil
There’s a notion that comes with growing up in a small town that the ultimate goal is to get out. Those who escape are sometimes spoken of with reverence – in glowing praise about how they’re living the life in “the big city”, even if the big city isn’t all that big. However, it’s not enough to get out. If you get out, but don’t evolve then you are just living that same small-town life with more take-out options.
Those who don’t evolve run the risk arrested development: Never growing into themselves and instead becoming 32 year-old teenagers. They might have left, but they took everything that wasn’t nailed down with them.
Mavis Gary (Charlize Theron) is a ghost writer for a young adult series of novels (think Sweet Valley High). She lives a wildly unspectacular life alone in Minneapolis: writing fluffy stories that she can’t even put her name to, bordering on deep depression, and spending more time watching reality TV than she does working on her stories. However, one day she gets what she believes is a sign that must be followed. She receives a mass email from her high school boyfriend announcing the birth of his new baby.
The message has been sent from Buddy Slade (Patrick Wilson) and his wife to a few dozen recipients, but something in Mavis’ head interprets this as a signal that she should go back to her hometown and reconnect with Buddy. And to be clear, she isn’t looking to take Buddy and his wife for dinner and do the usual “What have you been up to” cha-cha. Nope, Mavis is ready to relive life in the 90’s and actually make a play for her now-married ex-flame.
Before she can make too much of a fool of herself in front of Buddy, she runs into a high school classmate named Matthew Freehauf (Patton Oswalt). Freehauf was bullied as a teenager – so much so that he was assaulted in senior year leaving him crippled for life. As he talks to Mavis and discovers what she has in mind, he does everything he can to help her understand just how crazy her plan is. While Matthew has a way of speaking with conviction I’d wager he didn’t have as a teenager, it’s not doing a lick of good.
Mavis is bound to go after what she wants, no matter who else thinks it’s a bad idea.
YOUNG ADULT is a cautionary tale about perceptions. Mavis, for instance, believes that she is a shadow of who she used to be. In a way, she is correct, since I doubt that she was always the burn-out who lives alone and drinks Diet Coke for breakfast before eavesdropping on teenagers for witticisms. But as Matt points out, she wasn’t exactly the teenaged superstar she thinks she was. It’s a misperception that we’re all capable of when we think back on our happiest times. It’s easy to think that we were better when we had less responsibility, or more money, or better looks. However, it’s possible that just might have been how things seemed from the inside looking out, and that others perceive that iteration of us as a lesser version.
Watching Mavis make her moves…her woefully misguided moves…one has to marvel at how much she believes that things are still possible with Buddy. When she first makes plans to see him, they agree to go for a drink at a sports bar at 6pm. To most of us in reality, there would be some understood expectations set with a date happening when it’s still light out at a place that has five different hockey games on at once. Not for Mavis. She dresses to the nines and loads up on every flirty weapon in her arsenal. That’s alright though – she makes up for her evening of over-sophistication by bumming around in Buddy’s high school sweatshirt she retrieves from her parents’ house.
Be honest boys – how could you resist that sort of hard-to-get demeanour?
What might be the most unexpected element of YOUNG ADULT is the way it sparks an overwhelming feeling of discomfort. You know those moments when someone says or does something so awkward that you unconsciously find a reason to leave the room? Mavis is a master of those moments. She is so fixated, so very removed from reality, that I found myself getting more and more claustrophobic in my seat. Mercifully, the film represents us on-screen through Matt, but for whatever reason, Matt (and therefore we) never seem to be able to bring Mavis back down to earth.
Speaking of Matt, it’s wonderful to watch what Patton Oswalt does with the character. He finds this rare intersection of pity and longing for Matt to inhabit – turning him into a guy who wants to shake some common sense into Mavis, but is also somehow getting a slight thrill by hanging out with the prom queen that used to ignore him. Some actors might make a mess out of such conflicted motivation, but Oswalt finds a very plausible key to sing this tune in…and in doing so pretty much steals the show. Fittingly, his final scene is one where he gets to show off just how sharp his acting skills are with a moment of truly mixed emotions.
YOUNG ADULT is likely to throw more than just a few people off. It’s not the direct-yet-bouncy romp that director Jason Reitman has come to be known for, nor does it bring the staccato snark that Diablo Cody’s writing usually has. It’s a sad character study of someone who has lost the plot (pardon the pun). It’s about what can happen when self-worth starts to slide, and the self-loathing that comes with being a writer starts to take over. What one should ask oneself as they watch this ballad of self-delusion play out, is who they’d be in this situation: The bystanders who watch, judge, and mumble insults under their breath, or the concerned person who offers to help…even if your help isn’t really wanted.
I was with this movie right up until the ending, which I saw coming a mile away.
I agree about Patton Oswalt; he was very good.
Which part of the ending? The deed, or the conversation after the deed?
What did you think of that scene near the end? I don’t want to give anything away for anyone that hasn’t seen it but you know the scene. At the breakfast table with Matt’s sister? I’ve been DYING to talk to someone about that scene in the blogosphere. I think a week later I’m still trying to make up my mind about it except for one thing: it certainly had crazy chutzpah.
I have a few thoughts on the scene – I’ll email you about it.
Best line ever: “you are just living that same small-town life with more take-out options”
I was afraid that would read too douchey – happy to know it gave you a grin.
Reitman certainly knows how to take an abrasive character and add a thin veneer of charm. Unfortunately for Mavis, Reitman left that layer off this time.
But are we supposed to find her charming in the Nick Nailor/Ryan Bingham way? I didn’t think so.