At first, the coming-of-age film Wyrm looks like it could be dystopian science fiction. It has a high-concept conceit that serves as a metaphor for teenage angst, one that cripples and tortures its awkward protagonist. But then writer/director Christopher Winterbauer loses interest in that aspect of his off-kilter vision, and still has a movie to finish. His solution? Pay closer attention to his characters and give them room to talk about their feelings in a realistic, ultimately satisfying way. This film is the best kind of bait-and-switch, revealing unexpected depth and poignance. Nonstop cameos from recognizable character actors doesn’t hurt.
Despite an absence of period pop culture, the film appears to take place in the early-to-mid 1990s. Our first major clue is when Wyrm (Theo Taplitz) gets a computer for his birthday. His uncle Chet (Tommy Dewey) is enthusiastic about the possibilities of chat rooms, and when Wyrm logs onto the internet, we hear the harsh connection noises from the modem. Maybe Chet figures the internet will give Wyrm a chance to find a girlfriend or kiss a girl. Either way, the world of Wyrm makes his lack of romantic success extra humiliating: teenagers must wear an electric collar around their neck until their first kiss, at which point it opens. Wyrm is the only kid in his class who hasn’t “popped his collar,” a point that his twin sister Myrcella (Azure Brandi) makes sure he never forgets.
While Wyrm desperately wants to get rid of the collar, that’s not the only thing on his mind. He is still grieving his older brother, who died in a car crash, and his parents are barely coping. One of the pleasures of Wyrm is how Winterbauer ekes out information: Chet is comic relief, and only later do we see how/why he serves as surrogate parent. Myrcella treats Wyrm with a mix of disgust and hostility, suggesting she is maybe the antagonist, although that is also borne out of pain she does not want to acknowledge. By the time Wyrm pops his collar midway through the film, Winterbauer reveals that he would rather explore grief and not “world-building” or whatever. It’s the right choice.
Deadpan humor and understated performances are what keep the material from getting too maudlin. Taplitz, who was also terrific in Ira Sachs’ Little Men, plays Wyrm as more than a dork. He’s a sensitive kid who guards his feelings because he lacks the trust and experience to realize they’re normal. We do not realize it is a complete performance until much later, in a series of tender dialogue scenes where Wyrm lets his guard down a little. Brandi is a good foil for Taplitz because her hostile exterior compliments his inward performance. Still, the biggest surprise in Wyrm is the number of character actors who have brief appearances. If you’ve watched new sitcoms or Better Call Saul in the past few years, you’ll find yourself thinking, “Oh, hey, it’s so-and-so!” Part of me wonders how the producers managed to cram in so many one-off characters. Perhaps they called in some favors? Either way, these faces add a level of credibility that’s welcome, though not exactly necessary.
Wyrm looks and acts like Napoleon Dynamite for a while. The two characters look and behave in the same way, maintaining their individuality, even if it means being an outcast. Both films have a washed-out color palette, a not-so-subtle metaphor for characters who sometimes feel forgotten. But Napoleon Dynamite had a marked disinterest in what motivates the characters and was more a celebration of eccentricity. This film is richer and more ambitious, while not sacrificing its edge or point of view. Many films about teenagers are cynical, cheap, or condescending. This is the rare teen film that finds the right note and sticks to it, so it would be a shame if it never finds the audience who ache and yearn like its reserved, unusually empathetic hero.
Photo courtesy of Vertical Entertainment
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