Above: Emma Roberts, leader of the "Palo Alto" ensemble
A high school girl in a yellow
sweatshirt stands in front of a chain link fence, smoking a cigarette. She’s alone; it seems as if that fence is a
barrier, separating her from the rest of the world. But soon, she runs to the other side, growing
smaller she blends into the midst of a soccer team.
That’s the first time we see April (Emma Roberts), the
heroine of Gia Coppola’s movie “Palo Alto.”
There are other characters, of course—the good-hearted ne’er do well
Teddy (Jack Kilmer), his nasty “friend” Fred (Nat Wolff), and the vulnerable,
seductive Emily (Zoe Levin). But April
has a quiet sweetness that makes her stand out, especially as the movie’s story
becomes shadowy and frightening.
In human terms, I’m not sure it’s a story I can
judge. All the things that the kids in
“Palo Alto” do—driving drunk, partying late—weren’t part of my high school
experience. But as a film critic, I can
confidently say that the movie is almost entirely a waste of time. By delving into the trials of adolescence,
Ms. Coppola may have thought she was confronting potent truths about the human
condition. But the result of her efforts
never quite solidifies, despite its obvious sincerity.
From the beginning, life looks bleak for her disparate
heroes. April seems perpetually
alienated and Teddy, after being arrested, is told that one more offense will
land him in juvenile detention.
Initially, it seems like his road to redemption will be an easy one;
after all, he gets to do his community service at a welcoming children’s
library and his mom seems surprisingly forgiving. But stuff, as it always does in movies,
happens.
In many ways, Teddy is a compelling character—the idea of
a boy who is equally comfortable reading a picture book and cutting down a
graveyard tree with a chainsaw is perversely intriguing. Yet it’s not much fun being immersed in his
misery, especially whenever Fred shows up, luring his sidekick back into the
world of drug-buying and destructive mischief, like some kind of devil’s minion.
What could make this situation more depressing? For starters, the fact that the adults of
“Palo Alto” seem just as corrupt as the kids.
Just as Fred’s dad (Chris Messina) creepily comes on to Teddy, the
grinning soccer coach Mr. B. (James Franco) makes a pass at April. And while this seduction is certainly disturbing,
it’s not much more than that—the film never delves into the complex river of
emotions that such an encounter would inevitably stir.
Beyond that, there’s much to admire in “Palo Alto,” and
the movie’s touches of strangeness (like Fred’s surreally fleeting voiceover
and a near-endless, rhapsodic shot of April sitting in the back of a car)
suggest that Ms. Coppola’s filmmaking prowess might one day flower. If that day arrives, it may be interesting to
re-examine “Palo Alto” and see how its visual and audio quirks foretold the
future. But for now, the movie, like so
much of adolescence, is a drag.
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