BREAKTHROUGH

The Feel-Good Movie of the Fall Has Arrived

Jordan Firstman’s “Club Kid” isn’t what you think it is.

Club Kid may be A24’s most conventional movie to date—and that’s not a bad thing.

Arriving in theaters on Nov. 6 after celebrated showings at the Cannes, Toronto, and New York film festivals, Jordan Firstman’s writing and directing debut is a new spin on Big Daddy and About a Boy, complete with every narrative (and emotional) beat one might expect from its set-up.

Yet clichés persist for a reason, and this charmingly amusing and moving fable distinguishes itself through its rich textures, whether in the dynamic atmosphere of its late-night (and early morning) New York City milieus or in the winning personalities of its protagonists, whose genuineness helps sell the film’s coming-of-age sappiness.

It’s a feel-good tale you’ve heard before, albeit told by a new and inspired voice.

In 2016 NYC, single and gregarious Peter (Firstman) lives the life he always wanted—a bacchanalian swirl of heady evenings spent snorting drugs, dancing, and having sex at the wild parties he throws with business partner Sophie (Cara Delevingne).

A rotating view of a cab’s interior, populated by Peter and his boisterous pals, and a Goodfellas-indebted tracking shot of the crew entering a hot spot, sets the energetic tone. At the center of this electric scene is Peter, not simply because he’s helped organize the shindig but because he appears to know virtually everyone in attendance—or, as is the case with Leonora (Paris Petitjean), is known by them.

Leonora wants to sleep with the “fit” Peter but, as a gay man, he’s not interested. Nonetheless, while blitzed out of his mind, he’s coerced by a male lover into letting her join in their carnal fun.

Ten years later, Peter is still rabble-rousing with the best of them, albeit to diminishing returns. He’s a playboy Peter Pan who’s refused to grow up, and after botching a business meeting that drives Sophie to sever professional and personal ties with him, he gets the shock of his life when Leonora’s friend Edison (Kirby Howell-Baptiste) visits his apartment. Having traveled from the U.K., she informs him that Leonora has died by suicide, leaving him the sole available person to care for ten-year-old Arlo (Reggie Absolom)—who’s his son.

Given that he’s a jobless, aimless hedonist who lives in his late mom’s rent-controlled apartment with budding philosopher pal Nicky (Eldar Isgandarov), Peter is hardly cut out for parenthood, and Club Kid casts him as an archetypal carouser in desperate need of maturity, purpose, and direction.

Naturally, he’s destined to gain all three through his relationship with Arlo, a boy described as awkward, though, as Absalom embodies, more quiet than strange. Arlo is too self-assured, smart, and talented to create much odd-couple friction with his newfound dad, and his swift acclimation to his Manhattan surroundings only compounds the issue. Even so, Absolom’s initial reticence feels authentic, and the actor’s soulful eyes make him feel like a real person rather than merely a plot device.

The same goes for Firstman’s Peter, a stock type whose flamboyant demeanor and sharp sense of humor differentiate him from the stunted-adolescent pack. Peter’s fondness for getting hammered and going with the narcotized flow is laced with a hint of self-destructiveness (and loathing), and in the early going, Firstman’s performance nimbly walks a tightrope between giddy and wounded.

Everything changes, though, with the arrival of Arlo, whom Peter doesn’t want to care for but quickly warms to, thanks to their shared taste in music and the child’s instinctive embrace of Peter’s world, including his convivial transgender “doll” friends.

Partnering with cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra, Firstman places a visual premium on handheld camerawork, long takes, intimate close-ups, and images of his characters in silhouette, lending the action a ‘70s-esque immediacy. The writer/director/star employs his throwback style as a way to provide an unaffected entrée into his unique New York City environment, where merrymakers recite Nicki Minaj award-show monologues before snorting ketamine, “fisting” is a casual topic of conversation, and selling drugs is an ordinary way to earn cash, especially in light of the high cost of health insurance.

Club Kid thrives in its details and on the backs of its leads, whose chemistry evolves from clumsy to trusting to loving as Peter and Arlo learn about each other over pizza dinners (a meal that goes horribly, hilariously awry) and bedtime readings of Holes.

Firstman and Absolom are a well-matched duo, and the script lets them grow in tandem, although the film’s comedy sometimes takes a backseat to sentimentality, thereby draining it of its liveliness. The unlikely union of Nicky and Peter’s neighbor Evelyn (Colleen Camp) is a wan stab at interjecting absurdity into the proceedings, and Peter’s romance with Arlo’s social worker Oscar (Diego Calva) is frustratingly tacked on—even though Firstman and Calva have an endearing rapport.

Comments about Arlo’s childhood days in London with an abusive stepfather and his mother’s well-off friend are table-setting for eventual dramatic crises, and the film’s predictability thwarts some of its heartstring-tugging. Firstman shrewdly avoids concluding Club Kid with pat Hollywood fantasy, lacing his upbeat endeavor with a measure of realism.

Still, a lack of adventurousness means that Arlo’s development as a budding club DJ doesn’t really go anywhere, and when narrative calamity strikes, it comes across as more preordained than shocking; only in a closing phone call does the writer/director achieve the poignancy he seeks.

Too straightforward to get deep under the skin, Club Kid nevertheless has an idiosyncratic vibrancy that’s difficult to resist, thanks in large part to its writer/director, whose stewardship is as understated as his performance is charismatic.

On the heels of his breakout work in Rotting in the Sun and HBO’s I Love L.A., Firstman comes of artistic age with his latest. Even at its most formulaic, it’s a breakthrough that seems to spell big things for its multihyphenate creator.

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Nick SchagerEntertainment Critic

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