My Old Ass is both a coming-of-age teen film and a story of midlife regret. It’s about how you might want to do it all differently if you could. But would you?
Teenagers might think they know everything. (Spoiler: They don’t.) But what about how the older we get, the more we believe we know best? (Spoiler: not necessarily.)
Therein lies the premise of Megan Park’s new film. My Old Ass starts like a classic teen comedy but resolves with a more poignant message about growing up—no matter what age you are.
In the film, it’s the summer before starting college for Elliott (Maisy Stella) who lives on a cranberry farm with her parents and younger brothers. She has no intention of becoming a farmer, she has a girlfriend and she has a closeknit group of friends.
Cue the shakeup.
The turning point of the film occurs when Elliott gets high on mushrooms during a camping trip with friends, conjuring an encounter with her 39-year-old self (Aubrey Plaza). It turns out her “old ass” has a lot to say: Be nicer to mom, hang out more with your siblings and buy Amazon stock. Isn’t this what everyone would tell their 18-year-old self? But she leaves her with one more ominous bit of advice: Stay away from anyone named Chad.
The problem is that Chad, when she inevitably meets him, seems wonderful—sweet, smart and funny. How could this be the Chad she must avoid at all costs?
In many ways, this story seems a familiar one about discovering oneself and falling in love. Yet the film resists a traditionally simplistic message about sexuality, gender and love—and in doing so, My Old Ass is a refreshing new take on the genre.
At the beginning of the film, Elliott identifies as “gay.” But as her romantic and sexual interest in Chad grow, Elliott realizes she must rethink her self-identification. She goes back to the woods for another mushroom trip seeking her “old ass” for clarification on Chad, but instead experiences a drug trip where she becomes Justin Bieber on stage singing to Chad promising to make him her “One Less Lonely Girl.”
It turns out her ‘old ass’ has a lot to say: Be nicer to mom, hang out more with your siblings and buy Amazon stock.
Afterward she meets with her friend Ro for her “low-key confession,” and Ro teases her about being “straight,” which Elliott jokes is “the worst thing you’ve ever called me in your life.” But ultimately, Ro reflects the advice that she says Elliott once gave her, “Like you said it yourself about labels and shit—if they feel useful, then use them, and if they stop feeling useful, then stop using them.”
Most “queer” teen films (if that’s what this is) portray the protagonist’s coming out—and in a way, so does My Old Ass. But the fact that Elliott doesn’t disavow her past sexual and romantic interests through her journey is a rarity in the genre. Most teen films from American Pie to The To Do List (also staring Plaza), unsurprisingly, presume heterosexuality. But even queer films such as Love, Simon; Alex Strangelove; The Miseducation of Cameron Post and The Half of It tend toward a protagonist’s singular trajectory from heterosexual to homosexual interest. Almost none offer a more ambiguous outcome of a continuing journey of identity and desire.
Instead, Elliott resists an either/or dichotomy, and in that way the film feels more reminiscent of sleeper films like Princess Cyd, Boy Meets Girl or The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love. Elliott’s interest in Chad does not provoke a complete about-face, but rather becomes assimilated as a more nuanced understanding of her desires as she ponders whether this development might make her bisexual or pansexual.
Considering that nearly a quarter of Gen Z youth identify as something other than heterosexual—and more than two-thirds of those identify as bisexual—one would think that we would be seeing a lot more teen films featuring youth with fluid desires. But, in fact, this portrayal in My Old Ass remains rare in the teen film genre. And perhaps rarest of all, Elliott’s sexuality is more of an aside in the film than the central issue.
Not surprisingly, Park has spoken about actively resisting the neatness of genre, as she states in one interview, “I really like stories and tones of movies that live a bit in the gray area, where it’s hard to define the genre of the movie.”
On the surface, My Old Ass is a coming-of-age film. But it’s also a story of adult regret. It’s a story about when the love of your life becomes your greatest sorrow. It’s about how you might want to do it all differently if you could. But would you? Would you choose to avoid falling in love just to avoid being heartbroken?
In fact, one could argue that My Old Ass is not at all a teen film, but rather a film about midlife. While we’re busy thinking about how much teenaged Elliott could learn from her older self, we might not realize that her “old ass” actually has much to learn from her younger self. Perhaps the goal isn’t to do it all differently, but rather to embrace the way things unfolded.
Because as it turns out, love requires the most foolish youthful optimism, or as Elliott says being “young and dumb”—the bravery to proceed despite the realization that it can’t last, that all love leads to loss. And yet, to believe it all worth it nonetheless.
My Old Ass, written and directed by Megan Park, is in select theaters Sept. 13.
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