Tina Kakadelis
To be young is to be blessed and cursed with idiocy. Youth is the time in a person’s life that’s filled with chaos, upheaval, and a nothingness that feels like everything. When we’re young, there’s a confidence that life will somehow just miraculously work out. We leave our small town, head to the big city, and that’s it. Life is solved. There’s no need to plan or prepare or think ahead. How could we? The frontal cortex is nowhere near being fully developed. Only in the hindsight that comes with our later years do we recognize the gift we were given when we were young. My Old Ass argues that youth is a gift, but so is growing old.
It’s Elliott’s (Maisy Stella) eighteenth birthday. She’s spending it making out with a cute barista (Alexandria Rivera) and taking shrooms in the forest with her best friends (Kerrice Brooks & Maddie Ziegler). While they’re befriending the local wildlife, Elliott finds herself face-to-face with herself, but older. Eighteen-year-old Elliott and thirty-nine-year-old Elliott (Aubrey Plaza) sit next to each other on a fallen tree near a fire pit. Young Elliott is desperate for her middle-aged (her words) self to give her the key to their collective future; a series of answers that will make growing up painless. All Older Elliott is willing to give is a warning – stay away from a guy named Chad. It’s a warning that immediately becomes important as Young Elliott meets the newest summer hire for the family cranberry farm: Chad (Percy Hynes White).
The premise of My Old Ass is played to a humorous, smart degree. How many times have people yearned to talk to their younger selves? To impart just the smallest bit of wisdom that will make the course of life run smoother. It’s a fool’s errand for many reasons. The chasm between eighteen and thirty-nine is extraordinary and seemingly uncrossable. Young Elliott is concerned about what her wife will look like and how many children she’ll have, the money that she’ll make. She’s devastated to learn that when she’s thirty-nine she’s pursuing a PhD. Older Elliott is basking in the nostalgia of how simple her life was, but also how she took it for granted. She urges her younger self to spend time with her little brothers (Seth Isaac Johnson & Carter Trozzolo), with her parents (Maria Dizzia & Alain Goulem), and in the place where she grew up. My Old Ass is the kindest reminder that we’re never too cool to live in the moment and spend time with the ones we love. To force our brain to take stock of the moment as it’s happening and to fully experience all the emotions that are bubbling up in our chest.
As is the case with other films that play with the dynamic of older and younger versions of the same character interacting, My Old Ass is a series of life lessons to be reflected upon by the audience. It could sound monotonous, or like an Afterschool Special about how to talk about feelings, but what Elliott learns is wrapped in delightful, dry humor. It’s unclear if writer/director Megan Park wrote the film with Plaza in mind, but it’s a showcase of the exact brand of humor Plaza is known for. It’s wry and a little biting, a means of covering up the sweet, sensitive underbelly of the character. Stella is able to capture Plaza’s distinct style, and the two create a beautiful, layered performance as Elliott. It’s always thrilling to watch a newcomer completely command the screen and that’s what Stella offers. With some TV credits (and one viral Robyn cover) under her belt, My Old Ass is her first leading role.
My Old Ass has a sweetness that’s impossible to ignore. It washes over the audience from the first scene. The film adores Elliott in all of her youthful and oldful idiocy. She can grow older, have a fully-developed frontal cortex, and still not have everything figured out. We should honor our youthful ideations and use the wisdom that comes from living through difficult experiences. As Older Elliott says, “So just fuck it. Keep being the naive, dumb, poreless, happy, confident, brave, self-centered, optimistic idiot that you are because it’s perfect.” We should all be so lucky to get to middle age (forty and older) and not lose the parts of our teenage years that encourage us to be brave. My Old Ass is a warm reminder that sometimes, being young and dumb is a gift we should hold onto as long as we live.
