A much-hated man once said “It’s so easy to laugh, it’s so easy to hate, it takes strength to be gentle and kind,” which accurately sums up the experience of reading a festival synopsis for something that sounds both pretentious and treacly — a big statement film about a sentimental subject, a hard sell to even the most kind-hearted and wide-eyed cinephiles. It’s a reaction one might expect when drifting across the one for Mike Mills’ C’mon C’mon, which sounds like the kind of movie John Hughes might have made when he started drifting towards adult drama and also, in fact, did make with John Candy in the ’90s, though it’s paired with an ethos that indicates that it is a Film About Serious Things to the reader and/or hopeful ticket-purchaser. Roughly summarized, it’s about Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix), a radio journalist who, in the middle of interviewing children and young adults for a series about their hopes and dreams and thoughts about the future, is asked by his estranged sister (Gaby Hoffmann) to watch over his nephew Jesse (Woody Norman) for a spell. This leads to Johnny and Jesse going on the road so that the former can finish his story and a whole bunch of hijinks, genial goofiness, and frustration occurs along the way as the two forge a relationship and come to an understanding of each other.
What’s wonderful about Mills’ film is that, sure, it is all of that as outlined above, but it’s so much more than that, an earnest and clear-eyed look at how adults and children stand each other, tempered with naturalism in performance and direction (and how about that gorgeous black and white cinematography?) and a surprisingly uncontrived story, which befits its somewhat shaggy nature. It feels so much longer than its 110-minute runtime, which is normally a phrase used to bash a poorly-paced film, but I don’t think that’s the case: Mills wants you to soak up every single moment you have with these characters and, importantly, observe them in and out of their elements with one another. Yet he also wants the story to take its time, given the circumstances of their pairing. You see, Jesse’s dad (Scoot McNairy) is bipolar, and his having moved to San Francisco for a new job has triggered a manic breakdown that only his partner can fix. It’s not a vacation or some other happy occasion that causes Johnny to return into this young man’s life, and nor is the journalist specifically prepared for the hazards of parenthood, being an aging bachelor (whose longtime girlfriend recently split up with him) unaccustomed to kids outside of the context of an interview. He’s a warm and kind guy, but he’s not immune to the same sort of shit that we all get frustrated by.
As you might expect, C’mon C’mon‘s success hinges on whether or not you find the relationship between Phoenix and Norman to be believable and compelling, and it’s on this front that Mills and his two leads succeed dramatically. This is one of the most honestly rendered depictions of a budding tenderness between distant relations to be presented in a theater within the past decade, and it’s amazing how effective it is in comparison to a number of similarly well-received works. I’d posit it’s because of how Norman’s character is written, complimented by Mills’ smooth direction, and how his usage of non-actors in the interview sections of the film only serves to highlight just how non-showy or cloying this kid’s performance is. Unlike, say, Petit Maman, Jesse’s a kid: he gets hyper when he eats too much sugar, he is attracted to the glare of electronic screens like a moth to an uncovered lightbulb, and he can be a real brat if he’s particularly in his feelings or in the thoughtlessly cruel way that a forming mind often can be. There are several moments in the film where he just wanders off from Phoenix, either in a store or in a crowd of people, either to provoke a reaction (in which he scares the shit out of his uncle in a crowded store) or because he genuinely got lost (say, on a crowded street while his uncle works out some work stuff on the phone), and it’s impossible for an adult — particularly one who has been on either side of that situation — to not see this and get frustrated and genuinely empathize with the kid. Yet he’s also a wonderful dreamer with a set of fantastic quirks (he makes his mother and tries to make Phoenix pretend that he’s an orphan and that the parent-figure is a bereaved and kindly widower willing to take him in), and as such, he’s fully-rounded in a way that few children in cinema are.
But, back to the point: Mills has made a film, ultimately, about adults desperately trying to understand exactly where kids are coming from, a warm-hearted and deeply-felt cross-generational attempt at a connection in an area that is both often relegated solely to the interpersonal and, if not, subject to the kinds of generalization and stereotyping that makes us all seem like “boomers” in the eyes of those younger than the age of 20. This, perhaps, is why I really began to appreciate all of the interviews, one I started vibing with the film’s ethos, because, despite being well-rehearsed and prepared (and probably incredibly intimidating to have both a film crew and an Oscar-winning actor/the fucking Joker sitting across from you), these kids are actually trying to get something across to the thick-headed adults in the audience. Yeah, they seem to say, you fucked shit up pretty bad. But not only will we be alright in this future that you’re making, but if you meet us halfway, you might discover that we’re not what you see on ‘Euphoria’ or something. We’re kids. You were one, once. And what better message is there for a movie entitled C’mon C’mon than a literal call-to-action to the crowd?