One of my favorite moments in all of LOST
occurs in season three, when we get a glimpse into the childhood of
Benjamin Linus, arguably the most complex character in the series. In
this scene, a girl named Annie shows him two dolls she has made, one to
represent her, the other him. She presents him with the Annie doll and
explains, “Now we never have to be away from each other.”
It’s a
shining moment of true friendship in the otherwise deeply troubled life
of a Machiavelli in the making. So powerful was its impact that
although she only appeared in that episode, Annie remains one of my
favorite characters on the show. When I discovered that Flipped, a
2010 Rob Reiner film I found while browsing IMDb, features Madeline
Carroll, the actress who portrayed Annie, I knew I had to rent it. The
cover photograph of two 14-year-old friends sharing a tree perch,
reminiscent of Annie and Ben sharing a swing set, was the icing on the
cake.
In Flipped, adapted from the Wendelin Van Draanen
novel by Reiner and Andrew Scheinman, Carroll plays Juli Baker, an
eighth grader who has been smitten with her neighbor, Bryce Loski
(Callan McAuliffe), ever since he moved in across the street six years
earlier. Bryce considers her more of a nuisance than a real friend,
while she treasures their relationship and imagines that his feelings
run deeper than he is willing to let on. It’s the early 1960s, and
painful secrets lurk beneath the surface of a seemingly placid
neighborhood. Everything is about to get more complicated for both Juli
and Bryce, and how they relate to one another will have an important
effect on their lives in this year of transition.
The look and
feel of the movie is appealing, with Thomas Del Ruth’s sunny
cinematography reflecting the innocence of the chief characters, while
early sock hop hits pepper the soundtrack. Bryce watches Bonanza
with his family; Juli confesses to a crush on the Everly Brothers and
can’t decide which of the duo she prefers. Both of the central families
are close-knit but don’t speak with each other as freely as they should;
the communication gap there mirrors the chasm that exists between Bryce
and Juli.
In Juli’s family, the most engaging character is her
eccentric dad (Aidan Quinn), who looks at the world with an artist’s eye
but fails to see that his unkempt lawn has become the bane of the
neighborhood. The family is struggling, but we don’t really understand
why until an eye-opening visit with Juli’s uncle (Kevin Weisman) partway
through the movie. Her mother (Penelope Ann Miller) is frustrated but
kind, and both parents encourage the musical aspirations of her twin
brothers (Michael Bolten and Shane Harper).
Cheerful teens Mark
and Matt spend a lot of time with Bryce’s older sister Lynetta (Cody
Horn), much to the disapproval of Bryce’s spiteful father (Anthony
Edwards), who has had nothing good to say about the Baker clan from day
one. Bryce’s mother (Rebecca de Mornay) is more understanding, but it’s
his withdrawn, widowed grandfather, Chet (John Mahoney), who has the
largest role to play thanks to his fondness for Juli, which gradually
brings him out of his shell and helps to bridge the division that
develops between the youngsters.
While I found this movie
thoroughly enjoyable on several levels, what appealed to me most is the
way we alternate between Bryce and Juli’s perspectives. One narrates for
a while, and then we switch over to the other, usually with some
overlap that gives us a very different reading on what we just saw in
the previous scene. Bryce’s narration, especially toward the beginning,
is a bit aggressive; he just can’t understand why Juli won’t leave him
alone, and he would be mortified to realize that she thinks he is giving
off encouraging signals.
Meanwhile, her tone is generally
dreamy; she spends a lot of time with her head in the clouds, which may
partly account for the disconnect between her perceptions and reality.
Bryce thinks she’s a loon, but Chet, who begins spending his afternoons
helping her landscape her front lawn, insists she’s special. Finally,
Bryce’s impression of her begins to change, but not before his
insensitivity causes Juli to seriously reconsider her long-held
affections…
McAuliffe, who I’d never encountered before, turns
in a good performance as Bryce, who generally comes across as shallower
than Juli but matures as the year progresses. However, it was Carroll
who really impressed me. Of course, I was predisposed to like Juli
because of LOST and Chet because of Frasier,
so that may have influenced me, but I generally found that Juli’s half
of the storyline was more poignant and profound. Most often, her
problems are more pressing, and she reacts with more compassion to the
trials of others.
Chet’s admiration for her blooms after she
makes a brave stand to save the majestic sycamore tree that serves as
her favorite thoughtful spot, and she takes it upon herself to beautify
her family’s property, accepting her neighbor’s aid in part because she
realizes his need for kindred companionship. Later, she comes to
understand the painful truth behind her family’s financial difficulties,
and her kindness compels her to make a surprising decision during a
school fundraiser. Carroll has more dramatic material to work with,
while McAuliffe’s veers more often toward the comical.
Flipped
is a mirthful movie that exposes the very different ways in which
people, especially teenage boys and girls, think. It’s common for one
person to be completely oblivious to something the other thinks is
obvious, and these missed signals have great comedic heft. At the same
time, all these misunderstandings have the capacity to derail a
friendship, and one wonders while watching whether it might be better if
two people in such a situation could simply, as Gordon Lightfoot
wistfully proposed, read each other’s minds. Or would knowing too much
present just as many pitfalls as not knowing enough?
What is
clear after watching the movie is that everyday interactions only skim
the surface of a person’s innermost thoughts, and whether you’re 14 or
41, delving deeper is a dance whose complicated choreography is never
the same for any two people. For Juli and Bryce, the steps are awkward
indeed, but the final waltz is as graceful as the slope of a sycamore
limb under a fiery sky.
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