Summer of Teenaged Angst

A few weeks ago, I bought a summer "smash pass" from the Little Theatre. It cost all of $20 and entitled me to admission to six different films: It's All Gone Peter Tong, Rize, Kontroll, The Aristocrats, Never Been Thawed, and My Summer of Love. Last night, I rushed out of the house just in time to catch the final showing of Summer of Love. I'd made the last-minute decision to see the film in spite of the blasé trailer and unimaginative title, both of which suggested it would be another hackneyed rendering of teenaged romantic angst. I should have known better than to resist Love given how much I'd enjoyed Pawel Pawlikowski’s previous film, Last Resort. Maybe I feared it would be like the oh-so-disappointing experience of viewing Todd Solondz's Palindromes.

In Summer, Mona feels utterly disconnected from everyone, including her born-again brother, until she meets Tamsin, a wealthy neighbourhood girl who's recently been expelled from boarding school. Both girls are frustrated with their lives and eager for an experience that will cut through their boredom. Tamsin and Mona develop a kind of intuitive sympathy that seems almost common among teenaged girls and their friendship quickly evolves into a volatile blend of emotional and physical intimacy. As Tamsin's castle-like home becomes their own impenetrable never-never land, the girls' manipulation of each other, and Mona's brother, suggest this sweet love-story will take some dark turns. Although the plot is certainly modest, even predictable, Summer creates a mood that sticks to you like wet cotton, and presents a relationship with some of the hypnotizing vacuousness that made Kit and Holly, of Terrence Malick's Badlands, so hauntingly watchable. Unlike Badlands, however, Summer of Love leaves many unanswered questions about the long-term consequences of this relationship.