By Mark Fields
Delaware’s Aubrey Plaza Beguiles in Disarming Coming-of-Age Dramedy
It’s challenging to figure out how to write about My Old Ass, because much of the impact of the film will be adversely impacted by too much advance knowledge.
The set-up for the charming, disarming dramedy is promising. Buoyant teenage Elliott (played by Maisy Stella) is poised on the cusp of major life changes. She’s days away from leaving her rural Canadian home and family farm to start college in the distant city. On a farewell camping trip with her high school besties, Elliott trips out on magic mushrooms and discovers herself face to face with her 39-year-old self (Aubrey Plaza), the “old ass” of the title.
After the initial disbelief, older Elliott starts dispensing life advice to younger Elliott, some of which is welcome, some not so much. The charm of My Old Ass is the snarky repartee between Elliott’s two selves, and when Plaza disappears for a chunk of the movie’s second act, a good deal of the air gets let out of this lighthearted coming-of-age balloon. Plaza’s later return and an unexpected shift brings the film and Elliott’s teen transition to a resonant conclusion.
Director-screenwriter Megan Park, herself an actress, excels most in crafting this film when focused on the offbeat relationships, not just between the two Elliotts but also between Elliott and the ingratiating Chad (Percy Hynes White), a summer worker on her family’s cranberry farm. Stella, Plaza, and White all create fresh and surprising characters with their grounded performances. Most of the rest of the characters are unmemorable, little more than devices to advance the main thrust of the story.
Given its modest scope and the lack of major stars, My Old Ass is likely to fly under the radar, but please make an effort to seek it out. Bet your (old) ass that you’ll be glad you did.
The screenplay by Keenan Flynn, Bill Kirstein and Rose Gilroy, plays like a script that has been written by a committee with lurches in logic and shifts in tone that make it challenging for the audience to find a dependable rhythm. Berlanti keeps the action moving but does little to overcome the threadbare tropes of movie rom-coms. Any film fan can call out the plot points here well before they happen.
The sets, costumes, and soundtrack create more entertainment for the audience than the central plot. Fly Me to the Moon does a terrific job of evoking ‘60s Space Coast with nostalgia (and a bit of historic perspective). Berlanti integrates period news footage into his story, and actually manages to create dramatic tension with events whose outcomes are well-known. And I must admit it’s nice to see and hear Walter Cronkite again, a little treat for viewers…of a certain age.
Fly Me to the Moon manages to overcome the paint-by-numbers creakiness of its rom-com plot to provide some modest entertainment for a hot summer night. The movie never manages to soar, but it does lightly float.
