Growing Up And Skating Down.
Hill’s first major motion picture is a typical style over substance case. There is very less to chew on and more to run on or skate on. And being judged by his viewers with both the eyes wide open, Hill is a much more smarter and effective director than he is a writer. This uncouth slick street is the perfect stage for its characters. But, clearly this is already something that we have experienced before. And no matter how jaggedly his vision is on mark, he could not crown them on, in his storyline decoratively. The primary reason to that is his stereotypical and undercooked characters that are misguided under the impression of crafting out the practicality in it.
There is no circle, there is no reason, there is no arc to his storytelling. And even as a series of various episodes, Hill struggling behind the camera, obscurely leaping across the narration leaves you into an uncharted territory, he is not the advisable guide to this inadequate story. Nevertheless, the ferocious pace in his narration and shorter runtime clocks your experience to a satisfactory note. His direction eerily resembles with Malick’s camera work at times, and gives you a familiar neighborhood environment where we have played aplenty of times. Each character, driven by their parched two liner note can easily be evaluated within the first act.
Hill’s world in here is out of control, free from any bound knowledge, it is intriguing but not competent in its own range. Aforementioned, Hill soars on executing the written words on screen; although they are not something to be replied upon in here, surprisingly the performance is a vital theme to this film. It is scripted to be relied upon the performance and milking out the best from the achieved opportunity, both the younger and older cast manages to mark a stamp on this drama.
Hitting themselves brutally in a wall or in a fist fight or falling over while practicing, the physical sequences are meant to create a long lasting awe and it does but unfortunately, it raises questions on its existence itself. Suljic, the protagonist, is a better performer than his character is, and he is the only strong character involved in this over thought out journey. In fact, his friends wins over a large margin than his family. Scraping off the nature and the sluggish memories that they are dipped into, Hill’s eye on their emotions gives them an absorbing angle to project.
Waterston and Hedges, the major talents and disappointment of the film, are left untouched to feel their skin in the game. Plodding on a familiar structure, fortunately Hill doesn’t thrive upon huge antics, his unswerving content, even though flat line, is something to look upon. If he fumbles on delivering a flamboyant storytelling, his knack of keeping the conversations practical and subtle is a promising element, that lifts up this so called arthouse. Hill’s memories of Mid90s may be apt, but similar to it, it has both flawed and grandeur moments.