Moments of esoteric recognition are a rare and valuable thing in cinema. Towards the end of “Pineapple Express,” when James Franco’s Saul is being dragged down into the basement of the adversarial drug lord’s warehouse, he yelps, “What’s down there?! The fucking Rancor?!” Upon hearing this, I let out a loud burst of laughter in the theater amidst a sea of confused silence and quickly sunk in my seat.
It was a bit embarrassing at first, but when I thought about it a few moments later, I came to an obvious, comforting realization: I got it and they didn’t. When a movie hits an esoteric note (not that “Return of the Jedi” is counterculture fare), you get a sense that the filmmakers are speaking to you directly. And that’s special.
I mention this incident because something similar happened when I saw “Youth in Revolt,” the new film starring Michael Cera (who some view as this generation’s living epitome of one-dimensionality) as Nick Twisp, a nerdy high school student trying desperately to lose his virginity. Not really.
In actuality, the film is about an intelligent, eccentric high school student (Cera) dealing with family dysfunction and the logistical problems of his romance with another intelligent, eccentric high school student named Sheeni Saunders. She’s played by newcomer Portia Doubleday as an unpretentious bombshell who walks a tightrope between adolescent sensuality and engaging quirkiness.
So, for those of you that have been led astray by yet another maddeningly inaccurate ad campaign, allow me to clarify: the film is NOT about Nick’s attempts to have sex with some exalted bimbo by getting into trouble. In fact, Nick and Sheeni’s relationship is mutual, occurs organically and isn’t ever cringe-worthy. Really, the film is about their relationship and Nick’s attempts to salvage it.
Now, that being said, this is not a love story contingent on reality as we know it. But that’s one of the reasons “Youth in Revolt” works so well. Right off the bat, it frames the story in an offbeat, colorful universe and doesn’t let up. It’s just about tonally perfect. It’s this consistent adherence to its specific tone that allows the film to get away with as much shenanigans as it does. And this leads us to another one of its commendable aspects: zero exploitation.
Nothing here is misjudged. Sheeni’s fundamentalist Christian parents (M. Emmet Walsh and Mary Kay Place) are presented, defined, and provide just enough laughs without becoming redundant set pieces. Same goes for Nick’s divorced parents (Jean Smart and Steve Buscemi) and their assorted love interests.
No one overstays their welcome, not even Nick’s “supplementary persona” Francois Dillinger (the perfect name for a character designed by his teenage creator to evoke French romanticism and a sense of danger). His role is considerable and important but well-measured. He doesn’t grow tiresome because he’s present the right amount and remains hilarious as a result.
It’s not just the characters that go unexploited, though; it’s the comedic material itself. For instance, a few scenes in the film involve members of Nick’s and Sheeni’s families tripping on shrooms, but the way they’re handled is so acute and refreshing that it serves to cleanse one’s palette of all the lame middle-aged-adults-on-drugs scenes we’ve seen in recent years. Fred Willard lying face down on the floor with his chin caressing the carpet is an image I won’t soon forget.
As for Michael Cera’s performance, as Nick Twisp, it’s like he’s riffing on his own prototype and giving it just enough strangeness to persist charmingly. As Francois, he’s channeling French New Wave rebelliousness through that prototype and the results are hilarious. I’m still waiting on a dramatic turn from the young actor, but his work here proves he’s got versatile comedic chops and needn’t subsist as his familiar onscreen persona to stay funny.
But that’s enough with the career advice. I saw this movie in a theater full of 15-year-olds and I’m almost positive they didn’t get what they were expecting from a Michael Cera teen sex romp. They enjoyed the broader stuff that came about after Francois’ arrival, for sure, but Sheeni correcting Nick for attributing “Tokyo Story” to Mizoguchi instead of Ozu didn’t elicit too many yucks from their brood. Still, any movie with this dialogue is alright with me:
Nick: My favorite film is probably “Tokyo Story.” Mizoguchi is just so…
Sheeni: Wasn’t that by Ozu?
Nick: (after a long pause) Who can really say?
Once again, my lone guffaw echoed through the packed house. Only this time, I found the silence reassuring.
