Directed by Gia Coppola
PALO ALTO weaves together three stories of teenage lust, boredom, and self-destruction: shy, sensitive April, torn between an illicit flirtation with her soccer coach and an unrequited crush on sweet stoner Teddy; Emily, who offers sexual favors to any boy to cross her path; and the increasingly dangerous exploits of Teddy and his best friend Fred, whose behavior may or may not be sociopathic.
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★★★★★ review by Eli Hayes on Letterboxd
Alright, so I watched this film twice over the past twenty four hours. WOW. Wow... wow. Okay, so I know that this film has gotten some bad reviews, but you honestly just have to trust me here: Gia Coppola knows what she's doing. I swear it's true. You may not have lived this film, but I lived this film. The way they talk, the way they act, the way they are... it's real. It's real life. I'm twenty years old. These characters are probably supposed to be sixteen or seventeen or eighteen and I can remember it. I can remember it so vividly... the girl, the asshole, everyone.
This movie touched me deeply, like few other films this year have. It struck a chord that Sofia or Francis Ford haven't ever touched or seen the likes of, and I mean that; I'm not just saying that. A truly honest film... a hauntingly realistic portrayal of suburban high school culture. Something that I will never forget.
★★★★ review by davidehrlich on Letterboxd
Cigarette smoke rises from the Vatican chimney – a new Coppola has been chosen! 26-year-old Gia Coppola’s first feature sounds like a toxic brew of nepotism (she’s Francis Ford Coppola’s granddaughter) and restless vanity (the film is adapted from a collection of short stories by James Franco), but such suspicions, however warranted, are almost immediately put to bed. Essentially Fast Times at Raymond Carver High, a tight and teen-sized “Short Cuts”, “Palo Alto” begins with a blast of frustrated energy, the prologue soaked in such sensitive and assuredly adolescent nowhere, California verve that you’re helpless to accept that the film exists for reasons other than the fact that it can.
“Palo Alto” has a palpable sense of place, at once both flat and shimmering with the promise of a million brighter tomorrows, but the film could ultimately take place anywhere in America. The white privilege that hosts these particular stories – a surface element as endemic to the work of young Coppolas as soft lighting and perfect music – ultimately helps the characters to be more broadly accessible, their lack of responsibilities helping to forefront and deepen their collective need for purpose.
The first kids we meet are Fred (Nat Wolff) and Teddy (Jack Kilmer, son of Val), two stringy teen boys who only seem to make sense to each other. Teddy is a wallflower with a penchant for drunk-driving, a blonde-headed mop who’s less of a friend to Fred than he is his handler. Fred is a hyper-aggressive and vaguely sociopathic a**hole, that inexhaustible kid we all knew (or were) who preferred wanton destruction to hanging out, and didn’t seem to give a s**t about anything, often as a smokescreen for some obvious emotional damage.
The film’s cast expands prismatically from there, introducing us to the sensitively prim April (Emma Roberts, who has never been more compelling) via the giant crush that Teddy has on her. April’s semi-circle of pals includes her sexpot friend Emily (Zoe Levin) and her squinty single dad soccer coach, Mr. B (James Franco, natch). Watching how the stories blossom and intertwine is among the film’s greatest pleasures, the threads organically knotting up in ways that capture the casual significance that colors almost every adolescent experience.
Beautifully shot by the rather unexperienced Autumn Durald, a cinematographer whose talents obviously outstretch her IMDB page, Gia Coppola’s debut is awash in a dreamy haze similar to the textures which have come to define the films directed by her aunt Sofia. And while the soft lighting and laconic mood will doubtlessly draw lazy comparisons between the two, “Palo Alto” reveals itself to be unique in both style and story, Coppola’s approach informed by her characters rather than levied upon them. As a result, the film is simultaneously blithe and feeling, these kids so unsure as to what in life is worth genuinely caring about (and to what extent they should give themselves to it) that they look at each other every day as if for the first time.
All the same, the fluidity of their circumstances and perspectives doesn’t keep “Palo Alto” from building to a clear climax, the film building to an anomalously dramatic scene that unfolds as proof of the strong instincts that underscore Coppola’s promise. After 85 minutes of perceptive anti-drama, the stakes suddenly spike as one of the threads is imbued with life-or-death importance. The beat is as pivotal as it is unexpected, and Coppola’s refusal to layer it with false drama is compelling proof that her talents are worthy of her surname. Coppola’s adaptation owns the humility of Franco’s short stories and coheres them into something significant – as fun as “Risky Business” and as sincere as “The Spectacular Now”, “Palo Alto” is one of the best movies ever made about high school life in America (admittedly a low bar), blurring the lines between how unique it is to be a teenager, and how universal it is to feel like one.
★★★½ review by Evan on Letterboxd
It's those Coppola genes.
★★★½ review by Hungkat on Letterboxd
The slow, shadowy shoegazing tune reverberates right through the very nebulous memory of high school days. The foolish youths skateboarding in the night, some reeking of weed and hectically chugging alcohol. Gia Coppola’s debut feature emotionally expresses the imperfection of growing up through a long lost teen dream.
Why do you always ask me if I'm depressed, I'm not depressed. I'm tired.
It is a fractured recollection of the golden days dominated by obnoxiously ragged characters, wreaking havoc and carefree to the max. The movie wanders around directionlessly in order to repeat the same cycle of frivolous activities. Gia delves deep into the awkwardly tumultuous relationship of each impetuous teenager, raging with uncontrollable hormones, excessive stimuli and dangerous impulses. These people are merely looking for cheap thrills...unwilling to compromise - Staying young forever by teetering on the brink of adulthood is the only way to survive in this dull and lonely Palo Alto. The moody, synthy music streamlines sadness through the rough edges of adolescence, luring us back to those days forever gone. The images of Emma Roberts in the opening scene, exhaling cigarette smoke as she stares out at the seemingly futureless Palo Alto speaks louder than ever.
I’m not Bob.
★★★★ review by YI JIAN on Letterboxd
Life imitates art imitates life imitates art. Youth as an unsolvable mystery, a hazy memory. Gia Coppola's directorial debut is a moody, captivating and enigmatic reflection of teenage life. A very vivid dream, sprinkled with Coppola's magical dust, where you laze around with Emma Roberts and awkwardly sit alone at a house party. The people depicted here are carefree beyond belief, nothing seems to matter for them. I might be getting the wrong impression here but that's fine, because I love it. I love to watch them get drunk and go skateboarding at night. The way responsibilities among the youth seem to be non-existent came off as incredibly comforting to me. It's relaxing and, again, so dreamy. So dreamy.
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