Aimless Youth: Part III

THE MEND (A-minus) - We end our little trilogy with a look at what these young adults ferment into as they hit 30 and beyond.

Mat and Alan are brothers who barely disguise their inability to contain their anger and frustrations. We never really tap into the source of that vitriol (though we hear tales about their rakish father), but it doesn't matter; we're in the moment, so let's deal with it.

Mat (Josh Lucas) is a failed web designer, who clings to his clunky laptop even though it's not doing him much good. Alan (Stephen Plunkett) is plotting to propose to his girlfriend, Farrah (the wonderful Mickey Sumner from "Frances Ha," here sans spectacles), on an upcoming trip, even though it's painfully obvious that they have a host of serious issues, epitomized by an early, raunchy dispute over his preferred ejaculatory habits. (Snappy one-liners often take the edge off of the proceedings.)

After a quick montage of Mat being an obvious asshole, he shows up uninvited at a hipster get-together at Alan's flat. The party scene meanders for a good half hour, leaving the viewer unsure as to where this is going and whom we're supposed to follow. New writer/director John Magary uses this disorienting method to leave us off-balance all movie. It's a smart move, because it tends to draw us into the various moments and away from the demands of conventional narrative. The characters grow on us as we glimpse the quirky aspects of their personality.

After the party, Alan goes off on his trip, and Mat stays put. Eventually, his girlfriend Andrea shows up. (They, too, have a knock-down/drag-out in the opening moments of the movie, during which she orders him, at the top of her lungs, to leave her apartment.) Andrea then decides to bring her son Ronnie (Cory Nichols) over to Alan's apartment, because her building has bedbugs. Eventually, Alan returns prematurely from the debacle of a vacation with Farrah, and the stage is set for fireworks.

Magary shoots and edits in a nervous, jazzy Cassavetes manner. The dialogue often comes out in snippets, as if Magary intentionally excises every third word just to see what would happen. A running gag involves sporadic electric outages at Alan's apartment; another revolves around a malfunctioning doorknob to the bathroom. This creates a jangled feeling in the viewer, so prepare to be unsettled.

Lucas is craggily handsome, but his scruffy Mat starts out in bad physical shape and gradually deteriorates, developing a harrowing hack by the end of the film. Mat is literally overflowing with bile; by the final act he is spitting and spewing as he rants and reels. Alan's rage is quieter but feels more dangerous. Eventually, the two end up alone, like a bitter old couple, comically impotent. Journeyman Austin Pendleton provides both comic relief and sharp contrast with the bumbling younger men as Earl, a raconteur who was a friend of their father's and now, apparently, is with their mother.

Magary avoids just about all the pitfalls of the ubiquitous Brooklyn art-house indie screenplays. There's nothing precious or self-indulgent going on here. These two brothers are a mess. Their girlfriends can be pills. The power grid can be fickle. Life is intermittent. It neither begins nor ends here. Not every word or image can be captured. Don't fret. It'll work out, one way or another.

BONUS TRACK
The appealing trailer: