I was a teensy bit nervous to see the movie Young Adult, especially with my mom. I knew it was about a young woman who writes books using a pseudonym, drinks a lot, and is generally very self-centered. This package describes me a few years ago, possibly describes me today, and I didn’t want Mom to worry or wonder. (Although, for the record, I’ve never tried to ruin a marriage nor have I driven drunk like our heroine Mavis.) Also, I was afraid the whole ghostwriting thing would be a joke, and that these cool Hollywood ladies would make me feel a giant Hello Kitty-fied punchline, and I didn’t want to feel crappy about myself. 

But I was more thrilled than wary, of course, becauseYoung Adult was written by Diablo Cody, one of the greatest writers of all mediums. What I love about her movies is that I’ve never seen her characters before. That seems like an obvious statement, but sometimes screenplays feel like a game of Mad Libs played on Final Draft software. (As in “insert plucky heroine here”; “weave character’s main lesson into a bow in the third act”, or “create a wacky arc for the sidekick” etc.) And nuanced, unlikeable female roles are still rare, no matter what what my beloved Bridesmaids did at the box office. 

Diablo Cody doesn’t follow a path I’ve seen before. She often makes you think she’s going in one direction and then totally surprises you, much like real people do. Maybe she’ll offend your politics, or perhaps she’ll crack you up with her wackiness, or both. I guess what I’m saying is that her movies feel very human. You can’t predict her characters but you’ll be interested in them, which is probably how you’d feel about anyone if you got a glimpse into meaningful moments of their lives, like you do in the movies. Before Juno, for example, I wouldn’t have bet I could love a pro-life movie. 

Young Adult follows a 30-something woman named Mavis (Charlize Theron) who goes back to her small hometown in Minnesota to win back her high school sweetheart, even though he’s now happily married and has a baby. Along the way she reconnects with Matt (Patton Oswalt), who was a dorky kid in her high school class, and who still lives in town. He’s lonely and bitter and walks with a cane because he wasbeaten into a coma by some jocks during junior year. 

Mavis is blissfully determined to get her ex, defying reason, logic, Matt’s advice, and even reality. Her antics are crazy, which makes the film intensely uncomfortable. You’re never sure if it’s all just dark humor (and it’s Ok to laugh) or if this woman is about to crack (and you should feel super sorry for her).

Her scenes with Patton Oswalt reveal wildly juxtaposed attitudes toward high school—he’s still entrenched in his bitterness (and is almost literally stuck there, because he’s not super mobile), and she’s delusionally trying to re-live her prom-queen glory days. 

It was a look at how we all carry high school with us—either we’re trying to break free and forge a new identity, or we’re trying to live up to the potential we thought we had. Regardless of whether we’re running to or from high school, it’s a North Star as far as identity is concerned. 

But what I appreciated most about this film is that it captures the real insecurity that for me came along with dating in my early 30s, before I met Eric. I spent way too much time trying to do my hair and makeup to go to dive bars in the East Village and maybe meet someone. There are many scenes in this movie where Mavis gets ridiculously dolled up with hair extensions, aggressive cleavage, a ton of makeup, and crazy-expensive heels, just to go to a sports bar in the middle-of-nowhere, Minnesota. She should look amazing, because she’s Charlize Theron, but you can’t help noticing how much time she spent on her appearance, and it’s distracting. It makes her seem more sad than sexy, and insecurity radiates off her like bling. (If this is the case for Charlize Theron, imagine what it’s like for us civilians.)

I’ve tried to find reviews that mention this element of the plot—how it takes a twisted look at being single in one’s 30s, a period in my life that didn’t always feel like a Sex and the City rom-com, and sometimes felt like a dark comedy. Depending upon how much sleep I’ve gotten the night before, I think life is a dark comedy. 

But I think I’m alone on this one. I realize Young Adult is far from being a realistic depiction of womanhood, and could seen downright bananas. But the emotional core was thunderously real for me. And while I loved this movie for so many reasons (dialogue! Patton Oswalt! the wise wife! the POV! the ending!), what I appreciated most was that it showed a slice of life I don’t often see on the big-screen—something I could relate to.