STARS KATIE FINDLAY AS RORY AND JAMES SWEENEY AS TODD

Eventually, the day was going to come. In my abiding crisis of dissipating youth, I knew that my worries will come full circle when I’d finally watch my generation reminisce about the pop culture zeitgeist that is the ’00s decade on screen. If the brand Twitter accounts using the same self-deprecating humor didn’t indicate that the millennials shaped by the birth of YouTube and Flo Rida were now running the corporate show, then it’ll be movies that represent the opening gate to a familiar likemindedness of the new decade. It’s not that I went through the five stages of grief to explain my experience with James Sweeney’s slightly autobiographical Straight Up, but when it nestled into a conclusion, I too had felt a sense of acceptance that things were going to be alright.

At its core, Straight Up is a story about a boy and girl. And okay, sure, can we make it any more obvious — but it’s 2020 and with the unwarranted disclosures from a tattletale trailer, the margins of heteronormative narratives are more blurred than the average sum of rom coms years before. Sweeney plays Todd, a gay man with OCD who is paralyzed at the prospect of being alone forever. To the bemusement of his therapist and friends, Todd is insistent that he could fall in love with a woman. In comes Rory (Katie Findlay), an aspiring actress who can match his swift delivery of quips and film references. So maybe he doesn’t skate and she doesn’t do ballet and maybe they aren’t dating dating, but hasn’t the definition of soulmates expanded beyond physicality?

If we assume that everyone involved is coming from a place of love, then we can sorta expect that there’s a “right” ending for this kind of movie. It’s our goodhearted intuition to let Todd and Rory stumble together in erroneous grace under the name of self-discovery, all the while hoping that we won’t have to wince at outdated relationship taboos. It brings me to Alice Wu’s The Half of It, where the endings for the two main characters are molded by the genesis of friendship, a pillar that is oft cast aside in the pursuit for romantic love. In an NPR interview, Wu explains that Ellie’s friendship with Paul in the film reflects her personal experience with coming out to a straight white man, who later became her best friend. Tragically, their friendship ended through the pressure from his girlfriend, where he explained to Wu, “She’s not threatened that we’re going to have sex or anything. She’s threatened by our intimacy.”

The Half of It and Straight Up share the tone of personal cinematic letters to non-sexual intimacy. But while Wu mans from behind the camera to place fresh Chinese-American faces to reenact the formative relationships in her life, Sweeney swivels himself to front and center to voluntarily expose his flaws and insecurities. It’s to the film’s benefit that Sweeney casts himself, as he’s able to play to the rhythm of Todd’s neurotic energy muted under earth-colored button ups. It’s a niche character profile, but who else would know Todd more?

There are quite a few things that Straight Up will probably remind you of. For one, it feels like a close sibling to (500) Days of Summer in genre subversion, stylistic usage of old Hollywood aspects (here it’s filmed in a 4:3 ratio), and an overshadowing interest shared between the two leads — Tom and Summer with music, Todd and Rory with movies. But the film goes beyond a singular mode of imitation because there are a lot of allusions, so much so that becomes to seem like a word game where the dialogue is linked and self-referenced within itself. Todd and Rory have a conversation about We Need to Talk About Kevin and how, despite that it was really important for someone to talk about Kevin in the movie, no one actually says the title. This is a great thought, but now that it was brought up, when will they say the title? When? Or will Paula Abdul be making a cameo? (Don’t let the low budget fool you; wait until you see Sweeney’s — oh, that damn trailer.)

The notion to label it under a rom-com is safe, but the archaic guidelines of the genre doesn’t encapsulate the strength of platonic bonds. In more ways than not, the self-awareness and ability to create momentum in small spaces is akin to a Joe Swanberg piece, though set to a Gilmore Girls convo-speed. On the flip side, it also feels like if someone took those DJ Earworm year-end mash ups and then made a Greatest Hits mash-up of those mash-ups. This is a comparison I feel is important to use as a distinguishing feature from the more tepid nature of mumblecore, as Straight Up is nostalgic and modern, fun and anxious, warm and sad.

I can see how all of this sounds insane. The slathered layers in references sound like they’re too much to bear, but it’s honestly seamless and well-performed. There is a secret talent to playing a failing actress without drawing pity from us, but here is Katie Findlay flawlessly doing the damn thing. It’s as if Sweeney and Findlay have known each other for years, and it was about time that they told their story of how they met. As for me, I can sit back, enjoy the amount of Ryan Gosling hints that may or may not be in this film lovers’ amalgamation of old and new, and let the years come by. Because, to the next generation’s grief, they don’t stop coming.

Straight Up
2019
dir. James Sweeney
95 min

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