It always really feels like a New Year after Award Season has concluded, at least creatively speaking. My brother came for a surprise visit this weekend from his home in Seattle, and after going out for pizza and pasta with the family and watching the New York Islanders lose in such a way that reinforced the reason I prefer fictional scripted entertainment over live-action athletic events, we decided to watch a movie. First, we indulged in one of our shared favorites Out Cold (2001), a comedic reimagining of Casablanca (1942) set at a ski resort. The film features a hilarious early-career performance by Zach Galifianakis in a supporting role. Rewatching it now that I'm older and more mature I find the potty-humor in it even funnier in a strange way because I understand the absurdities and subtexts underlining it all better. Once that film concluded, we felt are attention spans, and alcohol blood-levels were in reasonable enough area to take on another cinematic endeavor. This time we went with a film neither of us had seen yet, Mid90s (2018).
Written and directed by actor Jonah Hill the film tells the story of a 12-year old boy named Stevie living in Los Angeles with his mother and older brother Ian, who is somewhere between an emo/guido-hybrid. Stevie is searching for his place in the world. His relationship with his mother and brother are at arms-length, that is when his brother is not physically abusing him to degrees that are certainly beyond the playful wrestling my brother and I used to partake in during our childhoods. Stevie finds acceptance in a group of skateboarders at a nearby skate shop. They take him in almost on an internship-like status, allowing him to be privy to their so-funny-because their so offensive- conversations without outright granting him membership into the pact straightaway. We watch Stevie arc as he tries to adapt himself into the world of these rowdy outsiders while still holding onto some semblance of his own slipping innocence.
While I wished the film delved more into the toxic relationship between the two central siblings and resolved its climax in a less predictably "friendship never ends" manner, I very much appreciated its non-judgmental observations of young male culture. I enjoyed the film's depiction of the 90s just before our social consciousness as a country truly began to evolve and consider the value of PC-minded culture as well as its authentic representation of adolescent identity conflicts. Honestly, however, one of the most enjoyable and entertaining aspects of the film was its heavy nostalgia factor. What better film to watch with my older brother than one that reflects the world we grew up in, warts, Ninja Turtles and all? The cinematography, shot in 16mm film harkens back to a time when the value of movies wasn't constantly on an academic merit system for myself. It is a time when movies were just movies, and during Mid90's I felt allowed to recall the beauty in this kind of viewing perspective fondly. While I love the craft of storytelling, and while that craft is most certainly applied to the plot of Hill's film, with some faults admittedly, I yearn for days when I could explore the world the way Stevie does. The days when my young eyes opened wide to the wonder of it all, even the ugly parts.
Not everyone is as fortunate as Stevie and Hill's script utilizes secondary characters to demonstrate the many different walks of life that may bring a young man to behave the way these boys do. These characters have depth and substance that could have so easily been left on the cutting room floor, but Hill and his team recognize and appreciate the importance of their inclusion within the narrative. While the film could've taken the time to explore them even deeper, the short runtime almost makes you savor every frame a little bit more. I'm so glad I got to watch it with my brother and to be given the opportunity to go back, for a brief time to the days when Super-Nintendo and social acceptance were of the highest priorities. Hill's film doesn't dismiss these details as trivial or inconsequential instead. He makes a case for how they shape who we are by placing a looking glass over who we were.
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