My Old Ass (2024)
A spoiler-free review.
*The following is an example of a “Mid-Week Morsel” that Acquired Tastes will be offered exclusively to paid subscribers beginning in October.*
Good Vibes, For Once.
Here at Acquired Tastes, we don’t often bask in positive feelings. It’s not that I enjoy bad vibes. Rather, I broadly consider “feel-good” films to be saccharine slop that panders to open-hearted viewers, tugging on heartstrings I’ve long since tucked away. Most of the time, I am not emotionally moved, which makes me acutely aware of the “feel-good” film’s attempted manipulation.
So, believe me when I say that My Old Ass, scheduled for a wide theatrical release this Friday, is worth seeing. Written and directed by Megan Park, My Old Ass is a coming-of-age comedy that is as profane as it is poignant. I laughed a lot and even cried a little, a testament to this small yet mighty film's emotional punch.
Elliot (Maisy Stella), raised by cranberry farmers in a rural town, cannot wait to attend college in Toronto. On her eighteenth birthday, Elliot and her friends do mushrooms, and, via a contrivance of magical realism facilitated by psychedelics, Elliot begins talking with an older version of herself, played by Aubrey Plaza.
The poster for My Old Ass prominently features Aubrey Plaza, and that was all I needed to know. I purchased a ticket, and I’m so glad that I did.
From her debut as April Ludgate, the dour intern in NBC’s Parks and Recreation, Plaza has crafted a persona out of ironic misanthropy and social discomfort. Her deadpan affect, coupled with a broad refusal to engage in the perfunctory niceties social interactions often demand, is delightfully chaotic.
She’s comfortable kicking sand into the gears of a conversation and reveling in discomfort as she grinds conversations to a halt or derails them into absurd territory. Take, for example, her appearance on Conan. The late-night format is designed for breezy conversation and relatable anecdotes. Plaza refuses to fit the mold, and the results are much more compelling than standard fare.
I was surprised to see Plaza tone down the dark edge of her standard persona without compromising her singular source of charm, which has gotten lost in other mainstream projects, like Child’s Play (2019). In My Old Ass, she doesn't channel April Ludgate, but she is still Aubrey Plaza: deadpan as ever, yet amid her character’s numerous flippant retorts, she maintains an undercurrent of earnestness. She finds her groove in a film that is surprisingly tender, deftly walking a tightrope between sincerity and corniness.
The rest of the film’s cast, led by Maisy Stella in a stellar feature debut, brings Elliot’s world to life with charm and vigor. Queerness runs through the film without needing to become its central focus. Instead, queer sexuality is a character trait that, while salient, doesn’t become a defining trait. My Old Ass is not interested in placing the queer experience under a microscope. It’s refreshing to see queerness simply exist onscreen, unburdened by trauma that typifies queerness in cinema. I like the tragic, thematically intense explorations of queerness, but My Old Ass is a nice change of pace that mines its profundity from elsewhere.
My Old Ass’ emotional resonance arises from the introspection it organically prompts, regardless of your identity. There is a universal nature to the questions it asks: What would you say to your younger self? How different is your present understanding of life from your eighteen-year-old expectations? The answers are worth pondering, and My Old Ass taps into profound places as Elliot navigates the transition from adolescence to adulthood, or whatever we call the liminal space between the two.
I recommend checking out the film when it enters theaters near you because My Old Ass is a crowdpleaser suited for all occasions (except, perhaps, family movie night).
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See you on Sunday for our regularly scheduled programming, my fellow film freak.
Lovely review, Skylar. It's a model for what I hope my students turn in for their comedy reviews (several are reviewing this film).