Jonathan Levine, the director of the exceedingly clever (and still unreleased) slasher opus All the Boys Love Mandy Lane, veers recklessly from one extreme to the other in The Wackness. The film is a fairly personal tale of an alienated youth who spends the summer of 1994 wandering the streets of New York City and selling marijuana out of a water-ice cart, fighting his inner “wackness” and searching desperately for some accommodating sense of “dopeness.”

In the first reel, the knowing winks to the audience pile up so fast that I wondered if The Wackness would make it to the denouement without succumbing to eye catalepsy. Being the reliably grumpy Gus that I am, I asked myself, “does this guy really think that he can coast along for 110 minutes merely by having his characters reference Zima and Kurt Cobain?” Based on the cacophony of smug guffaws from the assembled Sundance press corps at its Yarrow screening (and considering that said corps are largely comprised of retired scenesters who are now entering their early thirties) the answer is apparently a resounding “yes.”

Thankfully, as we creep into the meat of the first act, the true arc of the story begins to take shape: the protagonist (Josh Peck) and his relationship with a burnt-out psychiatrist (Ben Kingsley, in a role that affords him a make-out scene with Mary-Kate Olsen that is destined for viral video immortality) who trades psychoanalysis for sensimilla. The youth bonds with the not-so-good doctor, but their relationship is tested with the dimebag-slinging young-’un takes a shine to the Kingsley character’s alluring but aloof stepdaughter (Olivia Thirlby, who is developing a name for herself as an actress possessing a wellspring of sass).

Here, Levine’s period flourishes—such as bridging the generation gap between the two central characters with an A Tribe Called Quest cue that samples Lou Reed’s “Walk on the Wild Side”—register as inspired and reach a level of maturation. A curious vignette that references Steve Barron’s landmark music video for “Billie Jean” does little to enrich period flavor (especially considering its inherent anachronism) but does much to engender audience goodwill. A concluding moment that pines for the majesty of New York City’s pre-9/11 skyline would register as ham-handed if Levine’s overwhelming affection for the island of Manhattan had not been so thoroughly established in the hundred or so minutes hence.

In short, The Wackness is a film that is quite acutely aware of its target audience, simultaneously pandering to and honoring its nostalgic remembrances of days of yore.

— Josh Slates

(Visit the film’s official website to watch the trailer.)

(Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired is now available on DVD through HBO Films. Visit their website for more information and to watch a trailer.)

With a documentary such as this one, which examines the pandemonium and questionable legal prudence surrounding the infamous prosecution of Mr. Polanski in 1977 on statutory rape charges and his subsequent flight from justice, you might expect a fairly dry courtroom procedural interspersed with a smattering of contemporary interviews and archival footage.

Yes, there are talking heads, those of Polanski’s defense attorney (Douglas Dalton), the assistant district attorney who brought the case (Roger Gunson) and, most strikingly, the victim herself. There is also a wealth of archival news footage of Polanski’s myriad court visits but, in a nod to Kevin Rafferty’s 1992 documentary “Feed,” director Marina Zenovich is focused less on the judicious use of soundbites here than the uncomfortable pre-roll moments that expose the posturing and salacious fatuousness of the news corps covering the event.

These things aside, what makes this exercise truly remarkable is Zenovich’s thorough knowledge of Polanski’s canon and the ways she subtly argues that the exorcism of one’s basest and most deviant desires belongs in a realm of artistic expression and not in the arena of the flesh-and-blood. When Polanski explores his idiosyncratic obsessions on celluloid, he is lauded as a brilliant artist; when these obsessions are indulged on a physical plane, Polanski is vilified as a dwarfish icon of perversion and criminality.

Zenovich never, even for an instant, excuses Polanski’s behavior or makes an argument for his innocence. What paints Polanski as a particularly pitiful creature is his awesome obliviousness (whether it be willful or otherwise is a subject for debate) to the social mores he violated in Jack Nicholson’s jacuzzi on the evening of March 10, 1977.

Gunson recalls, in a cunning move, how he took in a Polanski marathon at the NuArt movie theatre in Los Angeles while building his case against the director, viewing “Knife in the Water,” “Repulsion” and “Chinatown” among other films. Speaking with the authority of a film theory professor who is putting together a textbook exploration of Polanski’s psyche as represented through analysis of his filmography, Gunson makes the ingenious case that his mark was obsessed with the intersection of water and the corruption of innocence. Considering that Gunson was entrusted with prosecuting someone who was accused of plying a pre-teen with champagne and Quaaludes and sodomizing her in a hot tub, this makes for a particularly damning case.

— Josh Slates