Review: King Jack

King Jack (15)

USA 2015 81 mins Dir: Felix Thompson Cast: Charlie Plummer, Cory Nichols, Christian Madsen, Danny Flaherty, Erin Davie

There’s a moment in coming of age tale King Jack that beautifully encapsulates the contradictory nature of the teenage experience: our eponymous central character (terrifically played by Charlie Plummer) stands on top of an overpass in his rundown outer New York neighbourhood, staring down at a freeway and the cars peeling off into the distance. Here is a 15-year-old character stranded at that pivotal crossroads all adults remember, desiring to establish himself yet not quite mature enough to go it alone, looking for new experiences yet still at heart a child.

Such sensitive visual articulation lies at the heart of director Felix Thompson’s superb film, one of the most emotionally frank rites-of-passage movies in a long while for the way it observes Jack’s turbulent transition from immature teen to selfless young man over the course of one weekend. Suffering his way through summer school and recipient of unwanted attention from vicious local bully Shane (Danny Flaherty), Jack’s weekend appears to get even worse when his younger cousin Ben (Cory Nichols) is deposited at his mother Karen’s (Erin Davie) home following his aunt’s emotional breakdown.

Not enamoured of Ben’s company at first, Jack eventually warms up to his relative but their bond is soon put to the ultimate test, all thanks to those banal developments that come with being a hormonal adolescent and which everyone can relate to on some level. Thompson refreshingly doesn’t observe these moments with a rose-tinted lens: his view of Jack’s world is one inflected with brutal violence and difficult emotional choices, whether he’s suffering at the hands of the aforementioned Shane or struggling to come to terms with his older brother Tom’s (Christian Madsen, son of Michael) legacy of torment and cruelty.

So whilst the film features enough sun-dappled vistas and noodly acoustic guitars on the soundtrack, it never sugar-coats the anguish that comes with the experience of growing up. It’s also an uncompromising look at the corrosive impact of bullying, and the individual strength needed to stand up to it. Yet at the same time, there’s plenty of lively humour to offset the bleaker moments: one game of truth or dare involving Jack, Ben and the former’s possible new love interest Harriet (Yainis Ynoa) ripples with a palpable sense of awkwardness and sexual tension so authentic that one is tempted to see the actors’ performances as improvised.

Anchored by Plummer’s outstanding central performance, one that never asks for easy sympathy but always resonates with absolute truth, it’s a discreet gem that’s observes human kindness and ugliness with a wonderfully even keel.