Movie review: The Wackness

by John P. Meyer

On the surface of it, Josh Peck's character in The Wackness (Luke Shapiro) is an unbelievable fictional construct. He's about to graduate high school and has a lucrative sideline as your friendly neighborhood pot supplier. One of his best clients is his psychiatrist, Dr. Squires (Ben Kingsley, turning in a truly gonzo performance; showcasing his oft-demonstrated chameleon-like character portrayal abilities). Luke gets free counseling sessions in return for product, which the good doc uses profligately. "This was a short one," says the doc, "so I'll just charge you a dime bag."

Credulity is stretched yet further while Luke is on summer vacation. He maximizes his Big Apple street profits by wheeling around an ice cream cart loaded with weed. (Presumably he has some actual ice cream in there, but it's hard to say for sure because no one actually offers to buy any from him.)

This is New York City, 1994 - just prior to Giuliani's crackdown on crime, and during the period when hip hop was becoming pervasive in the popular culture. (The period soundtrack features songs by Fresh Prince, Total, KRS-One, Nas, R. Kelly, Wu Tang Clan and others.) The music serves to nail down the tone of the film, which plays like the unlikely bastard child of nihilism and youthful exuberance.

Doc Squires and Luke develop a symbiotic relationship that transcends their professional one. To Luke, the good doctor dispenses life lessons of the most cynical (and often sadly practical) sort: "Sometimes it's right to do the wrong thing," he says, scarfing a fat bong toke. While - in addition to the dope - Luke provides Squires with a look at the inner workings of his operation, and also introduces him to youth culture. (Not to mention actual youths, such as hot-to-trot, trippy-hippy Union, played by Mary-Kate Olsen.)

Both Luke and the doc, it seems, lead troubled lives at home. In Luke's case, his Dad has steered the family into dire financial straits, raising the ugly possibility that they may have to leave Manhattan to take up residence in - *GASP!* - New Jersey. Luke's parents (played by David Wohl and Talia Balsam) pay him little attention, which explains how they can remain blissfully unaware of his extra-scholastic activities. Only when he ends up offering them big wads of rolled bills to make the rent payment do they begin to suspect something's going on in his life besides band practice.

In Doc Squires' case, his current hotty wife Kristin (Famke Janssen) has lost interest in their romantic life - perhaps because he's immersed himself in expeditious intoxicating substances to the point that he is seldom sober. Or maybe her indifference is why he does it: the old chicken/egg conundrum.

The doc sees Luke as something more potent and heady than a surrogate son - in his footloose young cohort he thinks he might have found a means of reliving his own life vicariously, or at least improving upon it secondhand. By instructing Luke in the sybaritic philosophies he's lately come to embrace, Squires believes he can save the young man decades of wasted effort. Because - obviously - it all turns to shit.

The kicker to this unlikely friendship story appears in the form of Doc Squires' stepdaughter Stephanie (Olivia Thirlby). Little does Squires know (as he's dishing out his wild oat-sowing advice) that Luke has taken a serious shine to Steph, whom he meets during their high school graduation ceremony. They quickly strike up a mutual interest friendship, which Luke extrapolates into lurid bedtime masturbation fantasies. While he has little hope of turning his dreams into reality (since Stephanie treats him more as a chum than a boyfriend), he nevertheless craves her company.

Both Luke and Squires weather crisis situations that leave them hurting worse than ever. When Luke is led to believe that Squires has decided to give up the ghost and kiss this mortal coil goodbye, he knows just where to go to try and stop him: Squires' vacation house on Fire Island. There, the two engage in an epic bout of pill popping and boozery that could only be facilitated by a physician's access to prescription drugs. Turn out the lights, this party's over. (Maybe.)

Jonathan Levine's directing style is breathless and imaginative. He frequently employs magical realist devices (for lack of a better term), such as the sidewalk lighting up like a touch-sensitive keyboard beneath Luke's feet after he first kisses Stephanie. The love scenes between Luke and Steph (oops - bit of a spoiler there) are frankly and overtly sexual, which lends irony to the cause of the breakup of their relationship: Luke makes the mistake of voicing the dreaded L word in Stephanie's direction (and I don't mean "lesbian"). D'OH! Game over, dude.

Mr. Kingsley impresses with every new portrayal, and as a cursory look at his filmography indicates, he's working his ass off these days. In this film he plays a wastrel bohemian who's looking for any excuse to moderate his self-destructive impulses - and finding none.

Josh Peck plays the aimless, lovelorn slacker quite convincingly, adopting a slack-jawed, hang-dog look for most of his interstitial scenes (i.e., wheeling around the vending cart; roaming the city streets). He lacks only the drool cup for this expressional shading to have reached its extreme.

Method Man has a small role as Luke's marijuana supplier, who hangs out in a secure underground facility guarded by Uzi-wielding lieutenants. (Cinema verite.)