Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Nicholas Colia
Starring: Everett Blunck, Owen Teague, Melanie Lynskey, Abby Ryder Fortson, Kathryn Newton
A throwback to the edgy indie comedies of the '90s, Nicholas Colia's risqué coming-of-age tale Griffin in Summer is a reminder of how rare it now is to find an American comedy that
delivers laughs from start to finish. Colia pulls off the considerable
balancing act of combining serious and unsettling issues with laugh out
loud moments. There's genuine pathos here, and moments of tender drama,
but they never get in the way of the jokes.
In newcomer Everett Blunck, Colia is blessed with a
remarkable young actor who knows exactly how to make this tricky subject
work. Blunck plays 14-year-old Griffin, an aspiring playwright who feels like
he's surrounded by philistines in his small town. He dreams of moving to
New York when he turns 18 and taking the off-Broadway scene by storm. But
for this summer he'll have to settle for staging his latest play -
'Regrets of Autumn', a hilariously overwrought melodrama about a drunken
housewife and her cheating husband - with a group of his friends in his
basement.
Griffin is wise beyond his years but he's yet to learn the important
lesson that nobody likes a smartass. His summer plans begin to fall apart
when his "actors" refuse the 60 hours of weekly rehearsals he assigns
(because it's the "Equity standard"), preferring to spend their summer,
well, being 14. When his "director", Kara (Abby Ryder Fortson),
heads away with her new boyfriend's family for a three week vacation, it
seems Griffin's artistic ambitions have been thwarted. Why can't these
cretins understand the importance of his work?
Griffin finds an unlikely artistic ally in Brad (Owen Teague), the
twentysomething handyman hired by his mum (Melanie Lynskey) to
perform a series of odd jobs over the summer. Blasting music and
disrupting Griffin's creative process ("Art comes from a place of quiet,"
he lectures his mother in an attempt to have Brad fired), Brad initially
gets on Griffin's nerves. But then Griffin notices Brad's biceps and
suddenly has all the time in the world for this himbo stoner. In what
plays like a reversal of the most notorious scene in Todd Solondz' Happiness, Griffin plies Brad with alcohol in an attempt to coax the older man
into spending time with him. When Brad reveals that he's a "performance
artist" who spends most of his time in New York, Griffin's mind is blown.
Truly this is his soulmate! But as is usually the case with the objects of
our youthful crushes, Brad is a moron, practically an intellectual
neanderthal compared to Griffin, and also quite the asshole to boot.
Much of the comedy comes from the intellectual disparity between Griffin
and the object of his inappropriate but relatable obsession. The mere
mention of an artistic interest is enough to completely change Griffin's
view of the knuckle-dragging Brad, and even when he's exposed to a clip of
one of Brad's terrible stage performances, Griffin only respects the big
lug all the more. Brad is so dense that he's completely oblivious to
Griffin's attention, and blissfully unaware of the young boy's devious
manipulations, like his attempts to get rid of Brad's bimbo girlfriend (a
hilarious Kathryn Newton).
Blunck gets to showcase his talents off the bat with the movie opening
with Griffin performing a one-man staging of an excerpt from his upcoming
play to a disinterested school audience. Watching this kid perform an
over-ripe approximation of what he considers "adult drama" will have you
creased over in laughter, as will the subsequent scenes of his friends
rehearsing the same play. There's a worry that the film night be too
reliant on mining laughs from having kids mimicking adults, but Colia's
film soon reassures us that it has a lot more to offer than such simple
but undoubtedly effective comedy.
Amid all the awkward and icky humour of
the central scenario is a heartfelt examination of how appreciating art
can lead to social isolation. With each passing decade it seems art
becomes less relevant, and those who try to keep it alive are mocked and
labelled as pretentious over-thinkers by an increasingly anti-intellectual
public. Brad appears to have no real talent and the jury is out regarding
Griffin's future as a playwright, but they both have a passion for art
that's so rare today you can't help but encourage their zeal. Griffin is
the sort of kid who will likely be encouraged to give up his dreams by
adults who view the world in terms of lining their pockets rather than
enriching their souls, so this summer may very well be the highlight of
his artistic ambitions. It's easy to laugh at how Brad and Griffin view
art, but what Colia is really mocking here is a society that has turned
artists into outsiders.
Griffin in Summer is a subtly scathing film but it's wrapped up in a layer of
sweetness. As its young anti-hero negotiates his place in the world as
both a young gay man and a budding artist, it's ultimately heartwarming
and hopeful in its suggestion that all outsiders need to stop feeling like
outsiders is to come across some others who feel like they don't
belong.
