Young Adult

In his young, yet accolade-laden career, director Jason Reitman has crafted stories around many an unconventional, off-beat protagonist; take Thank You For Smoking’s charismatic, morally-questionable big tobacco lobbyist, or Juno’s titular sharp-tongued teenage baby mama, or even UP IN THE AIR’s connection-less corporate frequent-flyer. However, none may be as wonderfully broken as the anti-heroine in Reitman’s newest – and probably most daring – film, Young Adult.

Said character, Mavis Gary (Charlize Theron), is a train wreck in heavy make-up and hair extensions. From the film’s outset, we love to hate her. Or rather – and perhaps brilliantly – we hate to love her. Mavis, the superficial, self-indulgent author of a series of successful Young Adult novels, decides to relive her own teenage queen-bee glory days and head back to her hometown to ‘rescue’ former beau Buddy Slade (Patrick Wilson), who has just become a father. After carefully spitting into a dry ink cartridge in order to print some directions and aggressively chugging some Diet Coke to shake her hangover, she packs up her tiny dog accessory, hops in her Mini-Cooper, and heads back to Mercury, Minnesota. It’s in these tiny moments of characterization that Reitman’s film succeeds wildly; we come to adore, or at least appreciate Mavis’s shallowness because of its cleverly irreverent presentation. In one sharply cut sequence, we viscerally experience her emotional catharsis by way of pedicure. It’s engaging, it’s downright hilarious, and it’s all guided by Reitman’s expert hand.

Mavis arrives in Mercury expecting Buddy’s small-town lifestyle to be no match for her pretty-person big-city stature. When her perfect plans become predictably complicated, Mavis finds an ally in fellow outcast Matt Freehauf (Patton Oswalt), her dryly-bitter former classmate, who hasn’t gotten over high school for drastically opposite reasons. He’s the most significant of a slew of comically nuanced characters we meet in Mercury, including Buddy’s good-hearted wife and Mavis’s own pissed-off parents. Oswalt really shines in his incredibly layered, sympathetic portrayal of Matt. As Mavis slowly comes to terms with her own brokenness, Matt is there to cushion the fall, or at least be her unlikely drinking partner through it all. Matt makes moonshine in his garage, wears Pixies t-shirts while painting action figures, and bears the deep scars of high-school bullies; it often seems like he, despite cynicism, is relishing in his first opportunity to talk to the most popular girl in school, albeit twenty years later. The odd relationship between this damaged duo becomes the emotional cornerstone of the film; as Mavis’s walk down memory lane becomes more of a drunken stumble, Matt becomes a sort of audience proxy. Voice-over segments of Mavis penning a self-mirroring YA novel take us into her twisted, superficial psyche, but emotional moments with Matt allow us the distance and conscience to assess her. This crucial balance – between judging Mavis and understanding her – might have been thrown off if handled by less skilled creators, but is precisely and carefully struck here.

Theron’s pivotal portrayal of a pompous past-her-prime prom queen is thus perhaps the glue that holds together the entire shebang. Despite Mavis’s awkward attempts to damage Buddy’s happy family, increasingly selfish treatment of Matt, and generally destructive antics, we laugh consistently throughout – a testament to the masterful craft of the film. In the end, Young Adult’s tonal smorgasbord, comprised of pity, hilarity, contempt, and sadness alike, is as scrumptious as it stomach-churning.

Wrought with 90s pop-culture references – Mavis rocks out to Teenage Fanclub, and Buddy Slade’s wife drums in a mom-rock band called ‘Nipple Confusion’ – and peppered with poignant wit, this film seems a fitting Juno follow-up between writer Diablo Cody and Reitman. However, it also explores newer, darker territory. At the end of her stint in Mercury, Mavis has caused a ruckus or two, more or less acknowledged her drinking problem, and dented up her Mini Cooper. But there isn’t necessarily any final redemption for our incredibly flawed protagonist – we never really know if she’s going to change, or even if she’s fully recognized that she should change. Thus, the entire film stands as an audacious, fascinating comic character study. It’s certainly an anomaly in this, and really any other, awards season. Young Adult refuses to ever really grow up, which is what makes it so darkly, unconventionally charming.

                                             Conor Byrne