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The Kings of Summer. (15.)

Directed by Jordan Vogt-Roberts.

Starring Nick Robinson, Gabriel Basso, Moises Arias, Nick Offerman, Erin Moriarty and Mary Lynn Rajskub. Out on DVD and Blu-ray. 91 mins

A rapid home entertainment release for a little gem that passed largely unnoticed through cinemas earlier this month. I didn’t review it, so no high horsing from me. Still, to be fair, the prospect of another coming of age tale about teenage American boys finding themselves is not an enticing one.

The chief thrill of Vogt-Roberts’ debut feature – apart from a funny and warm script, beautiful photography and great performances - is that it delivers all the routine pleasures of a standard narrative, predominantly dialogue driven entertainment (the aforementioned funny and warm script, beautiful photography and great performances) while being much bolder and more experimental than most Hollywood movies.

 It doesn’t make a big deal about it but by about halfway through it registered with me that there were an awful lot of montages in this film. There are any number of scenes driven by images rather than words and plenty of odd little non-sequesters that never get explained. Yet it could appeal to audiences who would usually condemn such arty farty touches. It’s like a Wes Anderson film without the preciousness.

 It is impressive how it manages to include some awkward and unsympathetic situations while still remaining broadly entertaining. The plot is about two friends who decide they can’t bear to spend the summer vacation with their awful parents and, along with a weird little kid they get stuck with, build a house in the woods. The boys have a wild time hunting and exploring and being free, though back in town the not-so-terrible parents are going through hell. They are the young and the thoughtless.

The kids are great especially Robinson as the leader, the most idealistic of them. As the movie goes on the focus of the movie shifts to his father Frank, played by Nick Offerman. Frank is the epitome is beardedness, sporting the kind of facial hair associated with glum uncles, survivalists, second hand bookshop owners, lorry drivers and the other established serial killer occupations. A widower, Frank is so taciturn, droll and deadpan it is as if the beard is encroaching on the face beneath, keeping it set in its rigid deadpan. He has some devastatingly funny lines. Offerman is one of those seen-him-in-something faces that you remember but can’t place and one of the film’s joys is watching a figure who was content as a support player slowly being moved into the centre. It’s a fantastic performance in a marvellous film.


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