Kelly & Cal
|  I usually find dramas that satirize the conformity of suburban existence off-putting because they rely so heavily on snide condescension without any real insight or empathy, so one of the things I truly appreciated about Kelly & Cal is that it manages to deal honestly with issues of superficiality and repression among the white-picket-fence set while also allowing for the complexities of human expression and feeling. That is, even though the film is replete with characters who have bought into the promise of sunny, white bread upward mobility, sometimes at the expense of lives that might be characterized as more “authentic,” the film doesn’t pretend that rebellion and nonconformity are the answer. Conveniently demarcated cultural lines are blurred, and the net effect suggests that remaining true to oneself does not necessarily mean refusing to accept adulthood.Juliette Lewis, in her first notable lead role in what feels like decades, stars as Kelly, a new mom who isn’t entirely comfortable with the fact that she has traded in her wild youth as an aspiring riot grrrl musician in order to raise a baby and maintain hearth and home while her husband, Josh (Josh Hopkins), brings home the bacon working for an advertising firm. It doesn’t help that her and Josh’s relationship has hit a few snags since the baby was born, with Kelly having a hard time adjusting to her new role as mommy and dealing with exhaustion and Josh’s flagging libido. It is because of her insecurities as a wife and mother that Kelly gets drawn into a friendship with Cal (Jonny Weston), a precocious high school senior who lives in the enormous house behind her. Cal is handsome, charming, and gregarious, although he is also dealing with his own issues of adaptation since a spinal injury has him confined to a wheelchair. What’s worse, the injury has damaged his fine motor skills, thus depriving him of his ability to make art and music. It has not, however, dampened his extroversion, as he initially approaches Kelly via the age-old suburban conversational form of talking over the fence, but addresses her in ways that suggests confidence beyond his age. If Kelly & Cal has a problem, it is that Cal is a bit too much of a character—too strong-willed, too assertive, too articulate—which makes him feel more contrived than he should. Nevertheless, the relationship between Kelly and Cal grows in ways that are entirely believable, and their rapport has a natural rhythm that makes it easy to see why they would be drawn together, even if social convention suggests that it is fundamentally inappropriate for an 18-year-old boy and a 40-something woman to be good friends. Cal, who disdains his wealthy parents’ attempts to reach him and generally sneers at all forms of authority, draws out Kelly’s latent social rebellion, and soon she is dying her hair blue, digging her old combat boots from the back of the closet, and playing her old demo tapes (we’re actually hearing music recorded by Juliette Lewis when she took a hiatus from acting in the mid-2000s to record and tour with her group Juliette & the Licks). Kelly’s newly charged behavior simply befuddles Josh and dismays her well-heeled, straight-and-narrow mother-in-law (Cybill Shepherd). And it shouldn’t come as much surprise that the emotional connection between Kelly and Cal eventually pushes against the bounds of platonic friendship, although first-time director Jen McGowan and first-time screenwriter Amy Lowe Starbin should be commended for avoiding clichés and dealing with the inevitable physical contact with both grace and restraint. For all its celebration of the libidinal power of youth, Kelly & Cal is refreshingly mature in its treatment of the responsibilities of adulthood and what true grown-ups really do when faced with adversity, betrayal, and disappointment. As it turns out, growing up and selling out don’t have to be the same thing. Copyright ©2014 James Kendrick Thoughts? E-mail James Kendrick All images copyright © IFC Films |
Overall Rating: 
(3)
