At the opening scenes of this film, an enterprising young Bartlett is shown packing his bags at yet another prep school that has kicked him out, primarily for being too smart for his own good.
His mother arrives, coifed and young in the family rolls, and is told by the school president that her son is not so much a behavioral problem as a small-time mastermind. He dumps out piles of fake IDs and passports Charlie has expertly Photoshopped and sold to make a small fortune. The pair ponder why Charlie, a rich trust fund silver spooner, would go to the trouble of such a risky side business.
This is especially funny to me, and perhaps I sat up in my seat a little higher when I saw this portion, as I too know personally the sort of boys who did the very same thing at their own Connecticut prep, making me wonder if my friends have now been immortalized in all their underage glory in said film. Then again, a lot of us had photoshop, and even I had a hand at my own early bird ID this one time at band camp.
As we meet Charlie, we find the cute as a button Anton Yelchin with bright blue eyes and sandy blond hair peering pensively around his soon-to-be-vacant boarding room.
Hope Davis does a fabulous job as the very believable, though very lovable fragile young rich matron, and we get the impression from their conversation, albeit down the long mahogany dining slab, that Charlie both misses his dad dearly, and is too busy as the stand-in supporting his fragile mother to think much on it.
This is a lad full of philosophies, and so well played by Yelchin that it becomes easily believable one young boy can change a high school over in his image in a single grading period. It just doesn't start out that way, as he receives a black eye from downtrodden, poor boy Murphy Bivens in an outstanding performance by Tyler Hilton (yes that one - just makes his performance all the better once you know that, doesn't it?)
Charlie is seen setting his belongings safely off the floor before daintily washing his hands in the boy's bathroom when Murph asks what he's toting around in his briefcase.
"Actually," chirps Bartlett, "I believe it's an attaché case." Hapless and out of touch with the public school system as he may be, everyone knows in movie land what happens when you tell the head bully he doesn't know his menswear.
The obligatory commode swirly by Bivens and his lackey, who is charged with video taping all of Murph's victims in an unsettlingly modern take on the high school psychopath, ends early when the school's embittered principle storms in to curb the insanity, offering little in the way of emotional anything to help Charlie acclimate to life among the barbarians.
But while the day continues to lob comical grenades, Bartlett's steadfast resolve to project a courteous resolve, even to the school's overweight, mildly retarded behemoth, slowly wins the audience. In any other characterization we might feel the need to duck the coming clue-by-four, but from Yelchin the clueless man-from-another-era schtick seems genuine. He has no idea how to hang his head in defeated misery, the upswing of a privileged upbringing. We feel sorry for him as his best attempts to be friendly at the dreaded lunch tables are met with cold stares and plague-like fears from the cheerleaders and jocks he's just faux pas'd as he sits next to them and they move away. It's a fairly accurate portrait of a new school first day for the out of towner.
But the torture can't go on unabated forever. Bartlett eventually meets Susan, the pouty-lipped girl from drama club, and his falsetto vagina monologue scores him an unlikely date after awkward small talk via note passing and comical tries at feminine understanding during tryouts. Props must go to Yelchin for reaching between his legs with a straight face as he squeaks "But daddy, and there was just blood EVERYWHERE."
The real hit of this movie isn't just that it's a teen flick that manages to be smart and relevant at the same time, but that it does so without the negative shock value so many trashier films lower themselves under, not unlike the collar of a guillotine, which is how most of them end up.
The film got good laughs in the Tribeca premiere not just from teens, but also from the smattering of middle aged silver spoon men who no doubt faced the same dilemmas as they matriculated through schools and colleges, caught on the cusp between the mannerly and the revolution. As Whoopie Goldberg once exclaimed, she taught her children to be rebellious and never to say "ma'am" so that they would be strong and independent. Luckily they turned out polite as the rebellion to rebellion, growing up instead to produce some of the most well-mannered grandchildren she could hope. In the case of Charlie, his mannerisms seem to come from within as well, as do his piano bar skits and warm conversational tones with his equally proper mum.
Yelchin is fabulous and hilarious in all his chameleon scenes, as are Jonathan Malen and Jake Epstein in their supporting roles, and Kat Dennings as the adorable budding gothling girlfriend with enough deep thoughts to balance her scenes with Yelchin in a believable couples role - you actually care to see them together - something hard to portray by adults, and nearly impossible in young teen scenes that don't involve constant full frontal assault. I'm not saying she's a nun, just that audiences actually walk away with the sense that you saw a scene, not just a simulated bj and a side of fries.
The tragicomedy of the high school social scene is still well-illustrated, and kudos for bravely hitting all perspectives. There are slight similarities to the cult classic "Heathers" where a sharp-witted Wynona Rider first earned her hellion wings, and perhaps more than one nod to the eccentric lad in Harold and Maude. None of these are bad similarities to have in a soon-to-be cult classic a la Ferris Bueller. If Bartlett has a moral, it would likely be this: The gap between the easily heckled virtue of chivalry versus every teen's desire to be cool does heal eventually with graceful sophistication, not endless circling of one's friends. This is especially true when Charlie, in his meteoric rise to high school fame, finds himself also at the head of a network of passionate protesters who despise the principle's big brother prerogative when the administration installs cameras in the student lounge. I can sympathize here, as my own high school became a small war zone the year we got our first batch of cameras. As someone only nearing the age of dirt, I can attest that this is extremely believable and well-written stuff, leaving plenty of time and room for good story.
Also shining brightly is a very pre-rehab-performing Robert Downey Jr. who wins the gold when he sits informally in Charlie's living room to give comical but very relevant advice on the dangers of abusing prescription medications. "Excuse me, Sir," quips the impeccable Charlie, "but what would YOU know about this sort of thing?" Close up on a shrugging Downey.
Ahem.
Scheduled for release this August, Charlie Bartlett is a great example of a risk to be offbeat in the virtuous direction, and a great team of writer/director that made something both well-written and well-liked as much by adults as by teenagers.
And when does that ever happen?
Applause to first time director Jon Poll and writer Gustin Nash. And of course Downey. If there's a way to play off unpleasant tabloid police photos with any more style, I challenge Wynona to find it. Grab a pencil, girlfriend.
Labels: Charlie Bartlett, Robert Downey Jr., Tirbeca Premiere
