Two soon-to-be fathers go on an impromptu trip to California's capital for a hilarious film about how men communicate.
As someone old enough to have seen movies like "Superbad" and "Youth in Rebellion" in their early releases, it's hard not to feel a little lost in time watching millennial teen icon Michael Cera gradually transition into father roles (no, the "Juno" loophole doesn't help). I wasn't at all fazed that he became a dad in real life, but there's something fourth-dimensional about watching an actor grow up on screen while his most famous characters stay the same age forever. It's a stunningly vivid illustration of the vertigo we all experience with aging: how can you be about to turn 40 when you're also 18?
Director: Michael Angarano
Writers: Michael Angarano, Christopher Nicholas Smith
Stars: Kristen Stewart, Michael Angarano, Michael Cera
But some things never change, and growing up alongside an actor like Cera reminds you of that, too. Yes, "Superbad" is a high school movie about two best friends who can't stand the thought of being apart, while Michael Angarano's sweetly funny "Sacramento" is a road movie about two estranged old friends whose reunion is entirely fueled by adult neuroses, but the truth is these films have more in common than the 17-year age difference between them might suggest. One is a monster studio comedy that grossed nearly $200 million, while the other is a carefree little indie that will probably never return to theaters once it finishes its Tribeca run, but both are about men—or at least, boys—who become completely unsettled during a transitional moment in their lives because they don't know how to trust each other. And they don't know how to trust each other because they've never allowed themselves to admit that they need that kind of support. As one film critic puts it: Even lanky beta nerds are stifled by their own internalized masculinity.
If Cera has grappled with that reality onscreen since childhood, the character he plays in "Sacramento" doesn't understand it until he's about to have a child. Perhaps it's because Glenn didn't learn to say "I love you" to his best friend before they went to different colleges. Or perhaps he did, only to grow up, get married, and slowly forget how revealing it can be to be vulnerable with other men who might understand what you're going through.
Either way, the poor man has become a nervous wreck just before his wife gives birth to their first child (Rosie is played by Kristen Stewart in a role that amounts to a glorious cameo, but she only needs a few minutes of screen time to add another layer to the "weren't you just a kid?" temporal turmoil of a film whose entire cast has grown up before our eyes). Terrified of becoming a father while also about to lose his job, Glenn can't even look at the empty crib they've built in the nursery without a panic attack, and his extremely pregnant wife is too deep in the "get this damn baby out of me" phase of the third trimester to bear his discomfort.
This may sound like the kind of role Cera could play in his sleep, but it's also the kind of role he can only play well with practice. As Glenn spirals out of control throughout the film, you can almost feel Cera trying to rebel against his movie persona and remain calm while being sucked into the maelstrom of his character's anxiety.
Rickey (Angarano) addresses a similar problem from the opposite perspective. An extroverted slacker who loves talking to others about their problems (especially when it helps him avoid facing his own), Rickey has kept his eternal adolescence under control by completely avoiding adult responsibilities. That's part of his charm. The girl he meets in the film's prologue is thrilled to share a night under the stars with him, though she laughs at the prospect of a relationship with someone who would so obviously abandon her when things get tough (played by the always excellent Maya Erskine, who is also Angarano's real-life wife and co-parent).
When the story picks up a year later, Rickey spends most of his time in a Los Angeles psychiatric facility; the recent death of his father likely has something to do with it, but it's also the perfect hiding place for someone who has never wanted to live in the real world. Until, of course, Rickey becomes too extroverted in group therapy, and he'll probably be dismissed from the program with nothing to his name but an old convertible and a sob story about wanting to scatter his father's ashes in Sacramento.
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