On the Couch

Young Adults
****
Directed by: Jason Reitman
Starring: Charlize Theron, Patton Oswalt, Patrick Wilson, Elizabeth Reaser

This Must Be The Place
**
Directed by: Paolo Sorrentino
Starring: Sean Penn, Frances McDormand, Eve Hewson, Judd Hirsch,

You know those drink safe ads with footage of people falling down set to a laughter track?
It all looks like mad-cap antics until the soundtrack is removed and you realise that you’re just watching some uncomfortably drunk people and the reality of their behaviour is more worrisome than humourous.

 

Jason Reitman’s latest flick, Young Adult, is like this. On the surface it’s a darkly amusing story. Mean girl, now all grown up, decides to go back to her home town and “rescue” her high school boyfriend from his happy marriage and recently born daughter so they can have the adult relationship she’s always wanted.

Normally in these sorts of homecoming flicks, the main character is the soul of normality while the various souls they encounter on their return are the sort of folk that would inspire you to want up sticks as soon as humanly possible.

Young Adult is different. Mavis Gary (Charlize Theron), the mean girl in question, is a horrible person. Sometimes comically so. Other times she’s just a cruel, delusional wagon. Those moments are, initially, hard to spot because the writing is sharp and witty and the characters are entertaining.

As the story develops, however, the comedy veneer begins to crack and the real tragedy of Mavis’ life starts to show through. Her plans to recapture the heart of her slightly gormless ex, Buddy (Patrick Wilson), become increasingly hysterical in tenor but, rather than allowing proceedings to spiral into a farce, director Reitman plays up the reality of the situation building to an ending which forces you to reassess how you appreciated the first hour of its 90 or so minutes.

As she was in Monster, Theron is at her best when playing unpleasant, dislikeable characters. It’s a brave thing for an actor to do and she pulls it off impeccably with Mavis, making her a witchy, bitchy psycho to remember.

Also impressive is Patton Oswalt as Matt, a former classmate of Mavis who was left handicapped after a vicious beating. He serves as yet further proof that if you scratch a decent stand-up comedian you’re likely to find a quality character lying just below the surface.
Young Adult is yet another quality piece of work from Reitman and one of a rare group of films that makes you want to watch it again almost immediately just to reassess it. How often do you get to say that about a film?

From that pearl of wisdom to something of an entirely odder nature.

This Must be the Place stars Sean Penn as Cheyenne, the ghost of Tim Burton and Robert Smith’s love child. An aging musician who lives as a virtual recluse, Cheyenne and his band, The Fellows, were once the biggest thing in goth pop and as lead singer he bestrode the music world like some badly made-up colossus – he makes a point of how he didn’t sing with Mick Jagger, “Mick Jagger sang with me. It was his idea”.

After two young fans commit suicide, apparently driven to the act by the band’s music, Cheyenne withdraws from my music and life and takes up a role of resident spectre in and around Dublin. His only connections to the world seem to be his wife, Jane (France McDormand) and a few other random friends including Mary, a young goth with issues played with sulky effectiveness by Eve Hewson, daughter of Bono,

After establishing his somewhat isolated existence in Dublin, matters take an unexpected turn when in the wake of his father’s death in America, he decides to find the Nazi guard responsible for torturing daddy during his time as a prisoner in Auschwitz.

Cue a ramble across the back-arse of the US as Caspar the Cranky Goth meets some of the Wild West’s weirdest on the trail of a nonagenarian former prison guard.

Penn’s portrayal of the fading legend as a fey-voiced odd-bod prone to outbursts and a possessing of a shambling gait is in turn laughable and intriguing. He veers wildly between Mr Magoo and Phil Spektor in his performance but for every moment that rings true, there are two that leave you wondering what the hell he was thinking (or smoking) on the day.

The whole film is kind of like that too. There are moments of listless brilliance to it but these spots are sandwiched either by non-sequitors or by indulgent twaddle – David Byrne appearing in a musical interlude for no other reason, apparently, than to show that Cheyenne knows David Byrne.

It’s nice to see Dublin represented on screen in something other than an Oirish context but the novelty soon wears off and the rest of the flick is like an episode of Stephen Fry In America on acid.

And not that good acid neither.