Suspended by Hollywood
Charlie Bartlett is likeable, nostalgic and shelved indefinitely
image courtesy of MGM
| By Tiffany Rainey At the culmination of contemporary Americana high school fable Charlie Bartlett—when rich boy-cum-stall psychiatrist Charlie flushes his gargantuan stash of Klonopin, Adderall and Xanax to its watery grave—the handful of Miami scene The film follows its eponymous Richie Rich character as he navigates a public high school for the first time after being dismissed from the pre-Ivy League for a string of illegal shenanigans. Naturally, nobody likes a kid clad in khakis and blazer so it takes Charlie a minute before he deftly takes the throne in his school’s inner circle. From his harmless thwarting of authority figures to his ‘80s duds to Anton Yelchin’s comedic timing to the camerawork’s quirky interaction, it all screams Bueller so loudly that seeing the butchered face of Jennifer Grey next to you wouldn’t mute the bliss. This indirect update on John Hughes plays up modern currency with STDs, cameras in classrooms and homosexuality plugged neatly into the outlets formerly occupied by economic inequality, anorexia and teen pregnancy. Not that they don’t get a mention; they do. And while the cast of kids have their issues, it’s the preternaturally fucked up adults that really make this film. Marilyn Bartlett, played by Hope Davis, is the blue blood, chemically altered mother more commonly found holed up in her McMansion in Connecticut or on Weeds. Paternally you have Charlie’s Enron exec father serving white collar time and Downey as the alcoholic principal who spends his days doling out detentions and his evenings downing bourbon and wishing he could fall down the ladder of monotonous success. More than a collection of plot foils that explain why today’s youth is screwed, the derailing of traditional voices of reason in Charlie Bartlett is a constant reminder that generations of sloppy morals mean it’s the blind leading the blind and, when it comes to role models, quick-or-dead peers like Charlie might be the best you can get. This brings us to the timing of Charlie Bartlett’s release. Studio heads at MGM have already pushed the film from early August to “November or Christmas,” wisely avoiding the wrath of Jonah Hill and Michael Cera, despite being directed by The 40 Year Old Virgin producer Jon Poll. The film is sure to go quietly no matter when it’s released. Our national psychology isn’t ready to connect the boom of the Reagan era with our current housing crash and looming doom, even with minor Cold War babble brewing and the ever-present highs of prescription drug use. The film has a clear and broad resonance however, where something like the The Squid and the Whale had an insular phoniness. In a society hellbent on smoke-and-mirrors politics and credit-fueled economic security, Charlie Bartlett is an unlikely cultural fit with the irony frazzling like an unexpected hangover long after the one-liners and slapstick are forgotten at the open bar. If Thank You for Not Smoking eloped with The Breakfast Club, this is the illegitimate child awaiting its fate in the lobby of Planned Parenthood, or, more likely, in bit torrent dorms, the blurry minds of Sagamore patrons, and 2008's surviving rental stores. It should turn out fine.
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