My Old Ass (2024)

Two women are sitting on a log outdoors near a campfire. The younger woman on the left, with long blonde hair, wears a brown jacket and green pants. The older woman on the right, with long brown hair, wears a cozy beige sweater with patterns and green pants. Both are sitting comfortably, having a warm conversation in the evening, surrounded by nature.

Megan Park’s My Old Ass is a delightful coming-of-age comedy that takes a whimsical spin on the well-worn genre. The film follows Elliott, an 18-year-old on the cusp of college who unexpectedly meets her 39-year-old self during a mushroom-induced trip. This encounter sets off a series of events that challenge Elliott’s perceptions of life, love, and self-discovery.

From the get-go, My Old Ass hooks you with its premise. It’s not every day you see a film where a teenager gets life advice from her future self, and Park’s script milks this concept for all it’s worth. The film’s strength lies in its ability to balance humour with genuine emotion, never veering too far into sappy territory or relying solely on cheap laughs.

Maisy Stella shines as young Elliott, bringing a perfect blend of teenage angst and wide-eyed optimism to the role. Her performance is nuanced and relatable, capturing the essence of that pivotal moment between adolescence and adulthood. Aubrey Plaza, as older Elliott, is predictably fantastic, injecting her trademark deadpan humour into the mix. While Plaza’s screen time is limited, her presence adds a layer of depth to the story that elevates it beyond a typical teen flick.

The film’s pacing is spot-on, zipping along at a brisk 90 minutes without ever feeling rushed. Park’s direction is assured, allowing moments of quiet reflection to breathe alongside more comedic scenes. The cinematography is a treat, making the most of the picturesque Canadian setting. From sun-dappled lakes to cosy small-town streets, every frame feels like a postcard come to life.

One of the film’s strongest aspects is its handling of Elliott’s sexuality. Her journey of self-discovery feels authentic and refreshingly matter-of-fact, avoiding the heavy-handedness that often plagues LGBTQ+ storylines in mainstream cinema. It’s a testament to Park’s writing that Elliott’s queerness is treated as just another facet of her character rather than her defining trait.

The supporting cast is solid across the board, with Percy Hynes White delivering a charming performance as Chad, the boy Elliott’s older self warns her about. The chemistry between Stella and White is palpable, making their scenes together a joy to watch.

If there’s a weak spot in My Old Ass, it’s that some of the secondary characters feel a tad underdeveloped. Elliott’s friends, while likeable, don’t get quite enough screen time to fully flesh out their personalities. Additionally, the film’s resolution, while satisfying, might feel a bit too neat for some viewers who prefer their coming-of-age tales with a bit more grit.

The film’s soundtrack deserves a special mention, perfectly capturing the bittersweet nostalgia of youth with a mix of indie gems and pop hits. A particularly memorable sequence set to Justin Bieber’s One Less Lonely Girl is both hilarious and oddly poignant.

My Old Ass isn’t reinventing the wheel, but it doesn’t need to. What it does, it does exceptionally well. It’s a warm hug of a movie that reminds us of the fleeting nature of youth while celebrating the wisdom that comes with age. Park has crafted a film that speaks to both teenagers on the brink of adulthood and adults looking back on their formative years with a mix of fondness and cringe.

In the end, My Old Ass is a delightful surprise—a coming-of-age story that manages to feel fresh in a crowded genre. It’s funny, heartfelt, and unexpectedly profound. While it may not be perfect, its flaws are easily forgiven in light of its many charms. For anyone who’s ever wondered what advice they’d give their younger self (or what their older self might say), this film is a must-watch, proving that sometimes the best person to guide you through life’s challenges is… well, you.

Rating: 4 out of 5.