When asked to compile a personal list of my favorite high school movies, there are a handful that come immediately to mind. Given that Diablo Cody has a new film coming out in a matter of days, I would be remiss if I didn’t speak about the endless impact Juno (2007) had on me as a teenager. There’s also the wonderful aimlessness of Ghost World (2001) that speaks to every Gen-X and Millennial outsider who craves visiting record shops just to make fun of the artwork. Add in some older classics – notably The Breakfast Club (1985) – and you get a good idea of the type of stories I tend to gravitate towards.
However, I want to make a case that Gia Coppola’s directorial debut Palo Alto (2014) would be especially high on the list. While I’ve read dozens of reviews suggesting that it’s meandering nonsense full of a nepotistic cast (as co-written by the ever-problematic James Franco), there is something that has stayed with me in the decade since its release. It could be that Emma Roberts’ performance ranks high on my personal list of angsty teens. Maybe it’s that the Devonte Hynes score is among the most sublime orchestrations I’ve heard. They’re so vibrant and youthful, capturing this dividing line between youthful naivety and the pressures of adulthood. Sure, most of the characters are unlikable and embarrassing in different ways, but I’d argue it paints one of the quintessential portraits of your teen years.
When I think of Palo Alto, I don’t think of any grand revelations. There is no insincere monologue like in The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012) that declares “This is our time” or that you’ve discovered something brilliant about yourself. Sure, it’s important, but it also feels meticulous and manufactured. Sentimentalism, especially in an acquired nostalgia, is essential to why these films linger with us, but they also feel like an afterthought stapled onto a Polaroid that can bog down the feeling. When you want to capture the essence of being a teen, you have to realize some truths such as the reality that part of its beauty was how aimless and confusing those days were. You had nowhere to be, so you made the most of what you could find.
Because of this, my ideal image of Palo Alto is one of sitting on the curb outside your house at night looking at the stars. Even if that moment never actually happens in the film, it’s the best way to describe its appeal. It could be 10 PM or 2 AM. No matter what hour it is, you’re staring at the prettiest skyline you’ve ever seen, the wind blowing through your ears as a peacefulness overwhelms you. You look at your friend and wonder how you got here, not only physically, but in the conversation as another inside joke is bonded. Maybe you reach out to hug them, but it doesn’t matter. For those few moments, you are together, and this is the most important thing that’s ever happened.
At its core, I’m not sure that anything meaningful happens in this film. There is speculation about where everyone winds up after the credits roll, but we don’t get an answer. Everyone will progress into adulthood. They may get a boring 9 to 5 job or wander around the streets looking for meaning. It’s the reality of any high school. Eventually, you’re left with memories of trying to understand how things wound up the way they did. More importantly, you wonder if there’s meaning in these moments when nothing was going on.
Unsurprisingly, Palo Alto is a film that has been a bit difficult to reckon with as the years have carried on. I’m thinking mostly of how much of it is the brainchild of James Franco. In 2017, he received sexual assault allegations that slowly caused his collaborators to disown him. I’m aware that there have always been “signs,” but you wanted to believe that the overly ambitious creativity with which he worked was at least producing provocative and meaningful art. Often they were hit-and-miss, but you admired his tirelessness. At least as someone in their early 20s, I did. So long as he did comedies with Seth Rogen every few years, I’d be happy.
Palo Alto, even by this measurement, is an odd beast because I think it’s one of the projects I think succeeds despite how clearly it’s Franco’s work. Coppola adapted it from a series of short stories the actor had written, and I’d argue they were pretty bad. Of course, as an obsessive of the film, I read “Palo Alto” hoping for insight. The results were something a bit less promising as they focused on mostly unlikable types being as profane and self-indulgent as they could be. One could argue that was always the point of Palo Alto, but I promise it’s much worse on the page. Franco wants to be gross and perverted. Coppola at least brings a sensitive eye that allows you to understand the beauty of these dumb friends. It romanticizes the unformed identity having these formative moments that won’t reveal their truths until adulthood. If anything, Coppola’s revisions hint at a hopefulness that Franco’s wasn’t.
I suppose the conflict with loving this movie in hindsight is also the casting of Franco as a soccer coach who is maybe a bit too yearning for Roberts’ teenage April. Some scenes aren’t subtly about him abusing his power over her, and commenters on Letterboxd are quick to suggest he’s too good at playing it. Because of this, I have often wondered how much I’m allowed to like this film. Every character does something objectionable at some point, but I sort of forgive it because of how comic it all is. These are teens after all. This is their time, if any, to be complete jerks. Let atonement come later.
To start shifting into the film itself, I find the story to be endearing in a way that few high school films often are. Outside of the passing time, nothing is really propelling the narrative. Outside of the debaucherous parties, there’s not a lot unifying these stories except that they’re young and (presumably) in the same grade at the same school. They wander the hallways and attend classes where they barely pay attention. Whether an invention of Franco or Coppola, there’s so much time for teenagers hanging around, gossiping, and admiring the attractiveness of their soccer coach. These kids feel real, looking at the adult figures they may or may not want to idolize as they consider what colleges they’ll apply to. As April will quickly suggest, it’s not likely to be your pot-smoking father who has some strange philosophies on life.
No moment better summarizes what the film is about than the opening. As Fred and Teddy sit in a car, they discuss who they believe would rule a fictional kingdom. When Teddy (Jack Kilmer) suggests that he would be a good king, Fred (Nat Wolff) suggests that King Teddy is a turd name. They each have a ridiculous sense of self that is cloistered from the world. As that one comment suggests, impressions are important in the teenage hierarchy and there is a need to present the best image. It’s something that plagues every character. Then, in the cleverest piece of action in the entire film, they leave the parking lot not by putting the car into reverse but into drive, thus causing them to run into a barrier.
While this by itself is a humorous punchline to open the film on, it encapsulates how these characters are making difficult decisions. They are stagnant, stuck between regression and progression in life. The urge to fall backward is evident in the Hynes score. Given that there are Terrence Malick-esque scenes where characters wander around in garb reminiscent of Maurice Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are,” the push to give up childish things doesn’t happen without a fight. It’s maybe why a third-act scene of them cutting down the tree feels so powerful. Not only does it symbolize this violent thrust into adult crimes like vandalism, but it also shows an insecurity of being tied to youth. April responding “That’s so sad” remains one of the most heartbreaking incidents because you sense reality setting in for her as well.
There is no graduation. Nobody experiences an epiphany accompanied by a triumphant score. Instead, the film wanders through moments looking for answers. When Teddy gets into a car accident with someone, he is forced to do probation and finds Fred doing everything to mess with him. He draws suggestive things in children’s library books and carves his initials into anything he can. There’s an antagonism of trying to do right and the temptation of a friend who won’t. When this doesn’t work out, Fred ultimately finds chaos elsewhere, including being the most annoying basketball player imaginable.
I recently watched a YouTube video discussing Palo Alto, and there was the suggestion that Fred was a closeted homosexual. While I had never considered it before, some of the signs were there. The most notable comes toward the end when he hypothesizes how much better it is to be a woman. Given that we watched him physically abuse his girlfriend, one must believe something more is going on. His desperation for control shines in his insecurity and constantly pushing the barriers. Given that he earlier established King Teddy as a turd name, there is a forced sense of masculinity that is awkward. As a result, he comes across as the most inauthentic character in the story, and it’s only with a larger context that it begins to make sense why. Even his yelling, “I’m not Bob” (a symbol of his own identity crisis) suggests something is going on.
So yes, several moments could hold depth in hindsight. However, the film’s romanticization of being in the moment is what sells me. Coppola is far from the first to depict a rager, and yet it immortalizes why these moments feel so sexy. It’s there in the random rounds of Never Have I Ever that reveal some comic truths. It’s in the random guy playing piano or trying to lift the floorboards. Everything is given their due here, and the aimlessness makes it resonate even more. They don’t have any greater consequence, and yet it’s the one moment where everyone feels the most free, capable of discovering a world without the censorship of adults.
I suppose as I round the end, I should touch on why Roberts delivers one of my favorite teen angst performances. For starters, Coppola doesn’t feel precious about depicting a sanded-down version of high school. There’s smoking, drinking, and every behavior imaginable. She rebels by dancing in her room while acting out an argument with her parents. She babysits a boy who is clearly better at video games than she is. Even as she talks with Franco, there’s this insecurity of trying to “act out” but understanding the discomfort of her limits. She wants to be cool, but is she willing to push herself? Compared to Fred and Teddy, she’s not necessarily doing anything groundbreaking, but as a student too committed to a team, she must decide if she wants to look into the adult world and jump right in.
I think Palo Alto resonates with me in part because it feels like one of the last films that I could recognize as a Millennial high school movie. While I’d argue it maybe lasted until Lady Bird (2017), Palo Alto reflected something of much lower stakes. This wasn’t about changing someone’s world but processing emotions in real-time. The conversations may not be structured for grand eulogies, but they hide a nugget of wisdom that will change your life. Along with Hynes providing one of my favorite movie theme songs over the credits, this film embodies the shaggy nature of high school in a less inspirational form. Yes, it’s confusing and messy. It can be argued that Franco does a disservice by being there, but even then, it still gives me hope that Coppola’s career will continue to flourish as she develops a more singular voice.
Rewatching the film recently, I struggle to deny how much this movie means to me. It transports me back to a time when my own youth was shifting into something different. I was 25, maybe the most unsure of where life would take me. It was scary, paralyzing, and full of these odd realities. It made me look back on where my high school and college peers wound up. I was thinking fondly of the time we’d spent together and wishing they could last longer. That’s the beauty of Palo Alto. It’s a film that may not feel constrained by any sensible measure, but neither do teenagers. All in all, it’s the reality that a lot of kids will do dumb things, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad people. They’re just trying to figure out where the boundaries are. Sometimes there’s no reason to be concerned. Other times, there is a need for intervention. The fact that Coppola portrays it without falling back into tired troubled teen tropes is why this film resonates as much as it does. There’s a hope that things will get better, but who knows. All that we can do when we don’t have answers is make things up as we go along.
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