In Theaters: Youth in Revolt

In the case of Sheeni Saunders (Portia Doubleday), the cute daughter of religious fanatics whom Nick meets during an enforced sojourn his mother (Jean Smart) and her skeezy boyfriend (Zach Galifianakis) make to a nearby trailer park, those sentences seem mediated to the point of ventriloquism. "For all the world knows, my vagina could be moist with desire as we speak," Sheeni says to Nick, after asking him to cover her "exposed areas" with suntan lotion and then chiding him about his inevitable boner. All blinding crushes, but especially the first, formative ones, are primarily feats of imagination, and once Sheeni has sparked Nick's -- in a brief exchange outside the trailer washrooms -- she becomes his conception, his character -- not ours. It's a technique that works well for a while: Youth in Revolt is, yes, another snapshot of a young man crippled and then catalyzed by his feelings for a blithe, maddening young woman (I can think of half a dozen, including Adventureland, Two Lovers, (500) Days of Summer, and, uh, I Love You Beth Cooper from the last year alone), but Cera's performance and the inventive split-psyche device freshen it considerably.

And yet Artera aligns us so closely with Nick's experience of the world (several subjective leaps into animation work less well than they should) that we sometimes lose perspective on not just where the film is going (although its true north points unbudgingly toward Sheeni's underpants) but why. Newcomer Doubleday does well with her limited, wide-eyed temptress duties, but the nature of her role as vessel for Nick's hopes and dreams is by definition severely limited, and the plot's hinge on her extolling Nick to be "very, very bad" plays pretty random. Because it is so subjective, it becomes unclear what Nick is recounting, intuiting and plain making up. This wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the film's end-point of abject sincerity. As the story begins to take on Odyssey-like dimensions, with Nick (and Francois, who facilitates the badness Nick can't quite pull off on his own) riding out storm after storm of self-generated bad weather, the appeal of Sheeni and what she represents for Nick gets lost. His final, triumphant speech on feeling less alone in the world and being loved for who you are buttons things up a little too sweetly.

Despite a buoyant energy, a series of pretty great moments and a wonderful performance, Youth in Revolt feels longer than its 90 minutes. The soundtrack is, of course, supremely knowing if enjoyably obscure, the supporting cast is flawless (Steve Buscemi, Justin Long, Ray Liotta and Fred Willard do some reliable light lifting, and Adhir Kalyan is a wonderful foil for Cera; the two perfectly embody the way that smart young boys, left with no alternative, make a sort of theater of their predicament). Not a classic, cult or otherwise, Youth is a calculated and largely successful attempt to evoke the pristine and more muddled longings of the overlooked, undersexed smart young boy at large inside men (and women) of all ages -- no small thing, as a slew of less-than coming of age flicks attest.

"Yesss," the thirtysomething man behind me sighed, as the final freeze frame of Cera's face faded to black, and who could blame him? Not me.

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