The Wackness is a film that, at one time, I might have enjoyed a great deal. It has enough going for it: a strong directorial vision, a low-key, quirky brand of humor, appealing “new faces” in the lead roles (Josh Peck and Olivia Thirlby), memorable supporting performances (well, at least one, that is: delivered by Ben Kingsley as a pot-huffing psychoanalyst), and a genuine-feeling coming-of-age story.  And yet the film does not seem to add up to the sum of its parts—particularly when such coming-of-age tales blend into each other quite easily after you’ve seen five dozen or more of them. This one just doesn’t stand out.

This time around, the setting is 1994 Manhattan.  Luke is a brand-new high school graduate enjoying his last summer of “freedom” before heading off into the “adult” world.  His parents are the worst brand of that animal—as are nearly all the adults in this film, not surprisingly: struggling, head-in-the-sand types for whom existence seems one long financial struggle and misery.  Luke wants to keep his family from losing their flat, though, so he takes on extra “work” by requesting a heftier load of dope to push from his supplier.

Luke’s analyst, Dr. Squires (uh, this would be Sir Ben, in yet another recent “image-busting” role), is a real piece of work… and one of Luke’s customers.  He dispenses bong-mot wisdom (“Sometimes it’s right to do the wrong thing”) that’s really just cynical patter, and his own life is a disintegrating mess.  His daughter Stephanie notices Luke at the beginning of that Magical Summer… and there ya go.  The stage is set for Luke and Stephanie to have a Romeo and Juliet-type sexed-up fling, for Luke to have his heart won, broken, and made whole again, and for adults to learn what losers they are and be saved by their kids—a study of the difference between “the pureness” of youthful potential and “the wackness” of what adolescents turn into as adults.

Writer-director Jonathan Levine really does a very fine job of directing this film; and yet I have a hard time getting at all excited about it.  It’s invigorating when a young auteur comes along who seems to have wisdom and insight beyond his years—like, say, Orson Wells or Phil Joanou—and everyone’s always on the lookout for the Next Big Thing.  More often than not, however, such phenoms fail to live up to their potential because way too much sunshine gets blown their direction.  They end up failing to challenge themselves enough, primarily because no one else is.

Such seems to be the case with Levine and The Wackness.  The material is strong enough; but Kingsley’s performance borders on the self-indulgent, the tone is far too ponderous for the relative weightlessness of the film’s insights, and too many of the details are just far too precious—Luke’s ice-cream cart drug stand or night out carousing with Dr. Squires, for instance, or the relative lack of danger associated with Luke’s dope-selling.  There’s no doubt that Levine recreates a reality here that his memory knows quite well.  It’s a memory that’s just too in love with itself.  Levine might do better to direct someone else’s scripts, or to let someone else direct his own.  There’s some iron here that needs to be sharpened by other iron, not just dotingly caressed.

It’s likely, though, that a good deal of my reaction to The Wackness is just an inbred resistance to personal tales of New York City.  I’ve felt equally cool about a good string of them over the last couple of years: Ira and Abby, The Hottest State, Day Zero, and The Treatment, for instance.  The ones I’ve particularly liked—The Visitor and Bella—have shown me something really new about New York, and have had a developed sense of the wider world.  Most New York tales, it strikes me, are just too in love with New Yorkers and not in love enough with people (or the world) in general.  (Tales of Los Angeles or Paris, by the way, tend to strike me in very much the same way.  So I’m sure I’ve got my own issues of provincialism.)

Still, I wouldn’t want to leave the impression that I’m completely down on Levine or his film.  I just think the Sundance vibe is overdone in this case, and the Sundance hype is overblown.  Levine will always be able to proud of what he did with this film, but it’s in no way destined to be a classic.

The Wackness is rated R for “pervasive drug use, language and some sexuality.”  This is an adolescent’s film most appropriate for adults who are nostalgic about their adolescence.  The R rating is entirely appropriate, and I’d think three or four times before allowing my own teens to see this film… if I had any.  And that’s usually a good sign that they shouldn’t go.

Courtesy of a local publicist, Greg attended a film festival screening of The Wackness.