An early draft of this review was originally published on October 23, 2024,
at Give Me Some Light on Substack, several months before it appeared here.
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Horror seems to remain the reigning genre for Friday-night moviegoers this year. And that makes a weird kind of sense to me: In the last several years, we’ve suffered through a global pandemic, lost loved ones to its deadly influence, and lost more loved ones to conspiracy theories and COVID-denial. My fellow Americans and I have watched the nation we love—the one professing to be land of “liberty and justice for all”—go into septic shock as the deadly toxins of racism, fascism, and Christian nationalism surge, undermining all that gives us a chance to be great. We’re watching as wars overseas escalate into full-on genocide, and we’re asking how it’s possible that we’re the ones supplying the machinery for slaughter.
When the world is so fraught with terrors that seem too big for us to stop them, we need the catharsis of scary stories. And we especially need those rare genre contributions that bring with them some kind of wisdom.
But if you’re like me, you can only take so much horror. And when the daily news seems more appalling than anything a movie can serve up, you’re grateful for those films that can provide some kind of escape from the garbage compactor of daily headlines.
Fortunately, horror isn’t the only trend. Throw a Milk Dud into a cineplex these days and you’ll probably hit a sentimental romance or a high-concept comedy that promises to blow your mind with its gimmicky hook. And I’m happy to report that one film in particular combines both trends into something special.
As the credits for Megan Park’s comedy My Old Ass finished rolling, I emerged from the theater with a big grin on my face, feeling high spirits and enthusiasm to recommend it. Perhaps that’s because I went in with low expectations. Perhaps it’s because my September and October have been grueling months so far, throwing one hardship after another at my head and heart. Maybe I’m just extra-grateful that a movie surprised me with unexpected pleasures, that it made me laugh, that it made me feel joy.
Or, maybe it really is that exceptional — as romantic comedies, coming-of-age stories, and sci-fi mind-benders go.
Let me think this through. Am I making too much of it?
If I describe My Old Ass as a “sci-fi mind-bender,” I don’t mean to imply that there’s anything psychologically distressing here. My Old Ass plays with an idea as unlikely, as simple, and as fun as Groundhog Day. Instead of waking up to live the same day over and over, Elliott (the fantastic Maisy Stella) stumbles into another impossibility: She meets and starts corresponding with her future self (Aubrey Plaza, low-key and lovely).
It’s the kind of premise that would fall apart if the film took it too seriously or tried too hard to explain it. Park avoids that. There’s a possibility that Elliott’s seemingly miraculous time-bending discovery is just a recurrent psychosis brought on by some particularly powerful mushrooms that she smoked on camping trip with her two close friends Ruthie and Mo (Maddie Ziegler and Kerrice Brooks). Who cares? What makes the premise play out convincingly is the awkwardness, the warmth, and the good-humored chemistry of the actresses playing Elliott in her late teens and Elliott at almost 40.
Park doesn’t even work hard to cast actresses that resemble each other. She just asks us to suspend our disbelief and accept Maisy Stella and Aubrey Plaza as the same character separated by about 20 years, and if we’re willing to play along, we’ll be rewarded. (I am so, so grateful that nobody tried to accomplish this with ageing or de-ageing animation.)
In doing so much with so little, and doing it with confidence, My Old Ass has some strong “Early Duplass” vibes. (Think Safety Not Guaranteed.) It’s funny, its efficient without compromising on character, it has a joyful spirit, and it’s remarkably tender in all the right moments. Park really loves her characters. All of them. And her cast makes me believe in them.
I can’t say enough about Maisy Stella. Okay, she’s apparently made quite a name for herself in a variety of media over a decade now, but this is my first encounter with her, and I’m immediately a fan. As Elliott, she gives us a fully realized human being who seems like one of my freshman writing students, a young woman who is eager to try things out on what we call “a journey of self-discovery.” Everything in this film depends on the audience believing in Elliott despite her bizarre circumstances. Stella makes us believe and—even better—love this reckless and somewhat flamboyant free-thinker. Her older self seems like a fantasy at first, but before the end credits roll I find that Plaza has become just as convincing, so much so that I wish we could spend more time with her character.
By contrast, Chad—played by Percy Hynes White of Netflix’s Wednesday—the “Summer Boy” who confuses Elliott’s ideas about herself, seems a bit too ideal, like he might represent the screenwriter’s ideal boyfriend. But everybody else in the movie treats him like he’s too good to be true too, so that helps.
If I have any major compliant, it’s that… well, no. I have no major complaints.
I have two minor complaints:
First, Elliott’s family seem unusually believable and real, especially her mother (Maria Dizzia) and the oldest of her brothers (Seth Isaac Johnson). But her father, who runs the family’s cranberry-farm business, seems vital to one of the story’s major subplots—the uncertain future of the business—and he gets far too little screentime. I suspect there were more Scenes With Dad that got cut for time.
Second, I wish I hadn’t realized what the Big Reveal was going to be long before it arrived. But then again, I’m not sure how they could have covered it up. And I’m not sure it matters that much. The strengths of My Old Ass have little to do with Shocking Twists and much to do with engaging scenes between endearing characters. (If the Big Reveal makes you wonder whether or not this movie was in any way inspired by another “glimpse your future self” movie from an altogether different genre, well… no big deal. It still works.)
As I teach and get to know current 18– to 20-somethings — about 25-40 of them every 12 weeks— I have a decent radar for films that feel truthful about them rather than merely fantastical. My Old Ass seems unusually persuasive, perhaps even because of its time-travel gimmick. In my conversations with college students right now, conversations constantly turn to the subject of their anxiety about who they will become and how they can avoid making big mistakes. In the film, these conversations that allow Elliott to interrogate her future self about how things turn out don’t sound written; they have an effortless spontaneity that is refreshing.
And, best of all, they suggest that if we were capable of reaching our future selves, we might not learn much at all. After all, in the future we are not enlightened beings. We can hope that we’re wiser. But we can safely assume that we will still be flawed, still be prone to fear and unhealthy regret. It may be that it’s our past selves, not our future selves, who have the most to teach us.
If you want to settle in with popcorn and a movie that will take your mind off your troubles for two hours, I recommend My Old Ass. If you want to see a movie that really gets young people who are making that transition from high school to college in 2024, I recommend My Old Ass. If you want to see a film about facing the future without fear, I recommend My Old Ass.
I reserve the right to come back and say I overrated this movie. Whatever I think of it next time, I’m grateful for how this lifted me out of my fatigue and reminded me to make the most of what’s right in front of me, here and now, instead of being dragged down by all the “what ifs” of tomorrow.
I’m eager to see what Megan Park does next.