Why do we love movies?
Why do we begin to believe in the world they create for us? Why do we go back to them every now and then, trying to soak up more of the atmosphere of their fictitious realms?
I combed over these questions as I watched Destin Daniel Cretton's Short Term 12, the indie stunner of the year that scales a new peak as far as teenage-dramas go. A compassionate, honest perusal of teenage angst, it lays new ground rules for independent cinema and, in the process, delivers one of the most poignant films of last year.
I'm trying to put into words the bliss I'm beginning to feel as my mind shifts back to the film. From a tremendously funny opening sequence to an achingly sad second, the shift of mood is one for the ages. Cretton finesses his story into the hustle and bustle of an institution for underprivileged, sexually-abused teens, who are trying to find meaning in their futile existence. The institution is managed by Grace, a twenty-something young woman, with her simpatico boyfriend, Mason. Grace and Mason run it like a weekend party - they talk, jest, sing, dance and engage into water fights and occasional games of baseball. When one of the kids cusses or brawls, they are curt and stern.
It's like having parents your age, you know. I don't see their relationship with the kids any other way.
Grace lays the rules down to a newbie intern, "Remember, you're not their parent. You're not their therapist. You're here to create a safe environment, and that's it." That's terse enough to get a hang of how everyone is related to each other. Grace is conflicted. She's secretly pregnant, in love with Mason but she's too cloistered. She almost never talks about her thoughts on something, which miffs Mason though he understands.
Mason is the guy everyone likes. He's kind, patient, friendly, gentle and he comes with a grin that's hard to scrap off his face. He's deeply in love with his pregnant co-worker but he's upset that his girlfriend doesn't share her thoughts with him. He tries to get her to talk to him, but she often pushes him away. Not out of annoyance, but out of fear that she'll have to revisit her harrowing past.
Mason's good friends with Marcus, a quiet teenager who had been a victim of domestic abuse. Marcus will turn eighteen soon, and he has to leave the facility, but he doesn't want to. In an exceptional sequence, both Marcus and Mason rap a song in which Marcus speaks his mind to a silent Mason. Mason doesn't know what to say. Neither do we. We can only watch.
The arrival of a new girl, Jayden, changes a lot of things. Grace sees a younger version of herself in the dotty-mouth newcomer, and she's cautious. She wants to articulate her feelings to Jayden, who prefers to be alone, doodling. She doesn't take any shit from anyone, not even the dainty Grace, who wants to help her because she's lived through what the waspish Jayden's living through right now.
Cretton handles the whole relationship delicately. Apart from providing sporadic comic reliefs, Jayden's character also provides a useful insight into the mindset of a neglected teen wanting to belong. Her inclination to claw herself to channel her inner rage is intelligible, and Cretton has observed it well. That's the kind of movie this is. It charms and ruffles you with its candid observations.
I've never really had a thing for teenage movies, you know. Yes, I have watched quite a few of them, but in most of them, I've observed that we're being fed a fantasy world. The men, too masculine, and the girls, too girly. There isn't even a shred of veracity in these mumbo-jumbo kiddie flicks. But some of them have stood out because they were different. I loved Jason Reitman's Juno because it gave me a teenage protagonist who, apart from being unbelievably likable, wasn't scared to talk about her boyfriends in front of her cool father. Or John Hughes' Ferris Bueller's Day Off, where I had to agree that kicking the Dean's butt is sometimes fun. Or The Breakfast Club, my favorite teen movie, in which we find out that the nerds and the thugs can indeed be good friends at the end of the day. It only requires a tiffin box.
But, you know, in all these films, the writer and director take liberties in knowing that it's a film after all. That's why these characters don't deal with situations pragmatically. And we enjoy watching what they do, but in some hidden nook of your mind, you'll say, "That's never going to happen in real life. That's just sad."
Alright, if you don't say that, you're lying. I say that.
The thing is, whatever happens in Short Term 12, is real life for you. It's pragmatic, familiar and relatable. You won't doubt the authenticity of the world Cretton creates for even a split second, because he's been there. Based on his real-life experiences, Cretton aptly creates a palpable world that's way too real. So real, in fact, that it's overwhelming. And to get lost in it is a thing of pure joy.
The film vastly benefits from a near-perfect script made better by fluid direction and fantastically naturalistic performances. Cretton's script is witty and sympathetic, jumping from laugh-out-loud funny to melancholic so neatly that you'll be surprised it's the work of a debutant. It's a nicely textured piece of writing that's meticulous and profound. His direction is sincere, impelling us to mull over his characters and their problems, and urging us to try and figure out what we would've done if we were in their place. And that's something rare, a film that not only involves us as an audience, but also involves us as human beings.
The casting works brilliantly. Young Brie Larson, whom you might remember as Jonah Hill's cranky girlfriend in 21 Jump Street, is a major revelation. The emotional detail in her performance is exceptional for a relatively unseasoned actress. And she has that strong screen presence that young actresses generally do not have so early in their careers. She's sweet, tough, fiery and understanding. And she makes Grace a character I'll remember for a long, long time.
This is the first time I'm seeing John Gallagher, Jr. in action. I don't watch a lot of soap operas, so I have no idea how these younger actors fare there. Gallagher shines in a role that looks so easy to pull off but is actually pretty hard. Mason is as conflicted as Grace, and while she acts her emotions out rather than talk about them, he does the exact opposite. It's a difficult character to write and play, and Gallagher does well, really well.
The rest of the cast doesn't let us down. It's a solid acting ensemble that shows us that good films need good actors, not stars who think they can improve on a good script. It's a lesson well learnt, you know.
Short Term 12 was my favorite English-language film of last year, a film made at a measly budget of less than a million and yet managed to shame many of the biggies I saw. It's passionate filmmaking you don't get to watch very often, and a spirited wake-up call for the revival of independent cinema. A film that is so quiet, entirely devoid of violence and shticks, theatrics and boredom. A film that needs to be watched and cherished. A monumental achievement in itself.
You may find me droning on and on, and boring the hell out of you. And it's totally cool with me if you think I'm lackluster, but for Christ's sake, do not miss this movie.
In a year of discoveries, I think we may have found the biggest one. Remarkable.
Why do we begin to believe in the world they create for us? Why do we go back to them every now and then, trying to soak up more of the atmosphere of their fictitious realms?
I combed over these questions as I watched Destin Daniel Cretton's Short Term 12, the indie stunner of the year that scales a new peak as far as teenage-dramas go. A compassionate, honest perusal of teenage angst, it lays new ground rules for independent cinema and, in the process, delivers one of the most poignant films of last year.
I'm trying to put into words the bliss I'm beginning to feel as my mind shifts back to the film. From a tremendously funny opening sequence to an achingly sad second, the shift of mood is one for the ages. Cretton finesses his story into the hustle and bustle of an institution for underprivileged, sexually-abused teens, who are trying to find meaning in their futile existence. The institution is managed by Grace, a twenty-something young woman, with her simpatico boyfriend, Mason. Grace and Mason run it like a weekend party - they talk, jest, sing, dance and engage into water fights and occasional games of baseball. When one of the kids cusses or brawls, they are curt and stern.
It's like having parents your age, you know. I don't see their relationship with the kids any other way.
Grace lays the rules down to a newbie intern, "Remember, you're not their parent. You're not their therapist. You're here to create a safe environment, and that's it." That's terse enough to get a hang of how everyone is related to each other. Grace is conflicted. She's secretly pregnant, in love with Mason but she's too cloistered. She almost never talks about her thoughts on something, which miffs Mason though he understands.
Mason is the guy everyone likes. He's kind, patient, friendly, gentle and he comes with a grin that's hard to scrap off his face. He's deeply in love with his pregnant co-worker but he's upset that his girlfriend doesn't share her thoughts with him. He tries to get her to talk to him, but she often pushes him away. Not out of annoyance, but out of fear that she'll have to revisit her harrowing past.
Mason's good friends with Marcus, a quiet teenager who had been a victim of domestic abuse. Marcus will turn eighteen soon, and he has to leave the facility, but he doesn't want to. In an exceptional sequence, both Marcus and Mason rap a song in which Marcus speaks his mind to a silent Mason. Mason doesn't know what to say. Neither do we. We can only watch.The arrival of a new girl, Jayden, changes a lot of things. Grace sees a younger version of herself in the dotty-mouth newcomer, and she's cautious. She wants to articulate her feelings to Jayden, who prefers to be alone, doodling. She doesn't take any shit from anyone, not even the dainty Grace, who wants to help her because she's lived through what the waspish Jayden's living through right now.
Cretton handles the whole relationship delicately. Apart from providing sporadic comic reliefs, Jayden's character also provides a useful insight into the mindset of a neglected teen wanting to belong. Her inclination to claw herself to channel her inner rage is intelligible, and Cretton has observed it well. That's the kind of movie this is. It charms and ruffles you with its candid observations.
I've never really had a thing for teenage movies, you know. Yes, I have watched quite a few of them, but in most of them, I've observed that we're being fed a fantasy world. The men, too masculine, and the girls, too girly. There isn't even a shred of veracity in these mumbo-jumbo kiddie flicks. But some of them have stood out because they were different. I loved Jason Reitman's Juno because it gave me a teenage protagonist who, apart from being unbelievably likable, wasn't scared to talk about her boyfriends in front of her cool father. Or John Hughes' Ferris Bueller's Day Off, where I had to agree that kicking the Dean's butt is sometimes fun. Or The Breakfast Club, my favorite teen movie, in which we find out that the nerds and the thugs can indeed be good friends at the end of the day. It only requires a tiffin box.
But, you know, in all these films, the writer and director take liberties in knowing that it's a film after all. That's why these characters don't deal with situations pragmatically. And we enjoy watching what they do, but in some hidden nook of your mind, you'll say, "That's never going to happen in real life. That's just sad."
Alright, if you don't say that, you're lying. I say that.
The thing is, whatever happens in Short Term 12, is real life for you. It's pragmatic, familiar and relatable. You won't doubt the authenticity of the world Cretton creates for even a split second, because he's been there. Based on his real-life experiences, Cretton aptly creates a palpable world that's way too real. So real, in fact, that it's overwhelming. And to get lost in it is a thing of pure joy.
The film vastly benefits from a near-perfect script made better by fluid direction and fantastically naturalistic performances. Cretton's script is witty and sympathetic, jumping from laugh-out-loud funny to melancholic so neatly that you'll be surprised it's the work of a debutant. It's a nicely textured piece of writing that's meticulous and profound. His direction is sincere, impelling us to mull over his characters and their problems, and urging us to try and figure out what we would've done if we were in their place. And that's something rare, a film that not only involves us as an audience, but also involves us as human beings.
The casting works brilliantly. Young Brie Larson, whom you might remember as Jonah Hill's cranky girlfriend in 21 Jump Street, is a major revelation. The emotional detail in her performance is exceptional for a relatively unseasoned actress. And she has that strong screen presence that young actresses generally do not have so early in their careers. She's sweet, tough, fiery and understanding. And she makes Grace a character I'll remember for a long, long time.
This is the first time I'm seeing John Gallagher, Jr. in action. I don't watch a lot of soap operas, so I have no idea how these younger actors fare there. Gallagher shines in a role that looks so easy to pull off but is actually pretty hard. Mason is as conflicted as Grace, and while she acts her emotions out rather than talk about them, he does the exact opposite. It's a difficult character to write and play, and Gallagher does well, really well.
The rest of the cast doesn't let us down. It's a solid acting ensemble that shows us that good films need good actors, not stars who think they can improve on a good script. It's a lesson well learnt, you know.
Short Term 12 was my favorite English-language film of last year, a film made at a measly budget of less than a million and yet managed to shame many of the biggies I saw. It's passionate filmmaking you don't get to watch very often, and a spirited wake-up call for the revival of independent cinema. A film that is so quiet, entirely devoid of violence and shticks, theatrics and boredom. A film that needs to be watched and cherished. A monumental achievement in itself.
You may find me droning on and on, and boring the hell out of you. And it's totally cool with me if you think I'm lackluster, but for Christ's sake, do not miss this movie.
In a year of discoveries, I think we may have found the biggest one. Remarkable.
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