There’s an ineffable reality to much of The Spectacular Now, one that can’t be explained as filmmaker techniques or cast and crew embellishments. The picture, a teen romance from director James Ponsoldt (Smashed), superficially takes place in a middle class town where most everyone is familiar, but high school is still its own planet. And on this planet, two bodies collide, cocksure Sutter (Miles Teller) and good girl Amy (Shailene Woodley), but both have been unaware that they’ve been repeatedly entering each other’s orbit. When Sutter finally opts to speak to this girl, you feel their collective histories at play, and Ponsoldt somehow manufactures the unspoken idea that these are two people who have had separate lives but have always showed faint awareness of each other, that friendly anonymous face from down the hall.
Sutter is the type of kid that seems concerned about his effect on others after the fact. Our introduction to him validates him as an alcoholic, and the natural inclination of the viewer is to search for signs of an addictive personality. But despite possibly flunking school, Sutter is a mostly functioning alcoholic, to the point where he is an early morning eager beaver to help Amy on her paper route despite nursing a severe hangover. Teller is a loquacious presence, and his chattiness imbues Sutter with quicksilver wit and a forever half-smile. He’s bright enough to be sweet and smart enough to be bad news.
Amy is a creature of routine, hammering away at her school work and batting off college offers due to underemphasized family commitments. She is not as well-developed, and it’s something of a disappointment when The Spectacular Now narrows its focus and leaves Amy’s story on the margins. It’s similar to what occurred in Ponsoldt’s last film, which eventually concentrated on the struggles of one half of a crumbling relationship while sidelining the other.
That side, represented by Mary Elizabeth Winstead in a breakout role, leaves echoes here, with Winstead making an appearance as Sutter’s well-to-do older sister Holly. In yet another marginalization, with Holly and her stuffy husband registering as diffident snobs, Holly boasts that she never works now that she’s married. Winstead is much better in a later scene when she confronts Sutter at a key juncture, but it’s a plot detour that you wish somehow involved Amy. You’re left to imagine her dealing with her broken family while Sutter gallivants through his character beats, a plot element that feels left on the cutting room floor, though we do hear the barking voice of her mother.
Teller is good, however, giving an easy charm to a player waiting for the game to start. The scenes between him and Woodley display a genuine chemistry, to the point where you actively hate seeing them separated. But Sutter won’t commit to her because it’s much easier to commit to a drink and a smile. That allows him to keep making visits to ex Cassidy (Brie Larson), despite her dating the class president. She has the same unguarded ease with Sutter that Amy does, but Cassidy is smart enough to know it’s temporary. He needs to be told that the rest of the school considers him a “joke.” At seventeen, he’s become the last guy who refuses to leave the party.
The supporting cast is unusually strong, and a little bit of breathing room could have given them more to do. Jennifer Jason Leigh remains a national treasure, though as Sutter’s mom, she feels like a plot device more than an actual person, even though Leigh and Ponsoldt do everything in their power to give her a life beyond the script through subtle body language and depressing wardrobes (the fashion in this film is refreshingly dull and believable for a middle class nowhere town). Andre Royo and Bob Odenkirk feel unpretentious and true as potential father figures at school and work, each one of them struggling with the fact that taking this young alcoholic under their wings is beyond their capabilities. Surprisingly strong is Kyle Chandler as Sutter’s wayward, transient father. It’s a traditional scumbag role, and not the type of part you’d associate with all-American alpha male Chandler. He renders the part of a fleeing alcoholic with a surprising level of verisimilitude that suggests a soupcon of warmth, but a dazed, dizzied reaction to responsibility. He doesn’t need to accidentally quote Sutter to make the boy realize he’s reflecting the worst aspects of his father, but Chandler is skilled enough to make you believe that isn’t entirely on-the-nose screenwriting.
The plot’s driving force appears to not only be Sutter’s growing alcoholism, but his temptation that leads to Amy boozing by his side. There are so many real details in this film, particularly in scenes between Teller and Woodley, the way they touch, the way they play-fight and the way they kiss. But some of it is degraded by the movie-friendly approach to alcoholism, where these two kids with perfect bodies spend almost every second half scene with a flask in hand, having no physical repercussions from too much booze consumption. There’s no suggestion of over-tiredness, or abuse, or even diminished social capabilities, which proves damaging when it becomes Sutter’s story, subtly implying that Amy has zero problem constantly being on the sauce. The issue comes to roost in a late-film tragedy, one that is swiftly swept under the rug so Sutter can continue character-building. It’s a disappointment because the picture truly sings when Woodley is in Teller’s arms. When the two of them are together, there’s no question that the now can be nothing but spectacular.
Den of Geek Rating: 3 out of 5 Stars