My Old Ass is two different movies, depending on how old you are.
If you’re under 35 or so, it’s a sweet coming-of-age story with a sci-fi/fantasy twist.
If you’re over 35 and feeling the emotional weight of middle age, it’s a bittersweet parable about coming to terms with your past selves – their decisions, their losses, and the millions of roads not taken.
From either perspective, writer/director Megan Park has made My Old Ass refreshing, charming, and frankly queer. It somehow manages to feel both nostalgic (despite taking place in present-day) and entirely unsentimental. And it tells an understatedly honest story about growing up and learning to appreciate the people you love. Maybe it’s the Canadian spirit.
What is My Old Ass About?
Elliott (Maisy Steller) has just turned 18 and is getting ready to leave her family’s cranberry farm for the big city University of Toronto. (Yes, sounds like the reverse setup for a Hallmark movie, but My Old Ass is way more down-to-earth.)
Plus, Elliott is decidedly gay, hooking up with a barista and confidently calling herself a lesbian. But we all know the confidence of 18-year-olds. Everything is going to get more complicated.
When Elliott and her besties go camping on an island in the lake – bringing some hallucinogenic shrooms – that’s when things get weird. Because while her friends have pretty standard trips, Elliott meets someone: her 39-year-old self from the future.
Being 18, Young Elliott is primarily interested in kissing her older self (which she does) and copping a feel of “my old ass” (which Older Elliott turns down, then later regrets, just a little). But when Young Elliott asks for advice, Older Elliott has only one suggestion: stay away from anyone named Chad.
What seems like a really weird lucid dream swerves into sci-fi/fantasy land when Elliott wakes up and finds “My Old Ass” saved in her cell phone – and the number works. Then Elliott meets Chad (Percy Hynes White), who is spending the summer working the cranberry farm to get in touch with his roots.
So while the Elliotts establish an incredibly long-distance mentor-mentee relationship, Young Elliott tries to hide the reality that she’s falling for Chad from both her selves. She’s afraid to admit to Older Elliott that she can’t listen to her advice, but also afraid to acknowledge that she might be bisexual.
One of the refreshing things about My Old Ass is Elliott’s self-questioning. Other queer coming-of-age movies have a protagonist agonizing over whether they might be gay. Elliott’s confusion, as she realizes she’s attracted to Chad, is “What if I’m bi?” It’s a clever inversion of the trope – a character totally sure of her sexuality finding that love and attraction are more complicated than any boxes you make for them.
What Makes My Old Ass Worth Watching?
Well, for one, the performances.
In her debut film, Maisy Steller turns out to be a serious gem – funny, direct, open-hearted. It’s honestly a little hard to imagine this sweet kid growing up to have the edge we expect from Aubrey Plaza.
But Plaza also smooths her edges with some surprising wisdom that feels genuinely earned. Yeah, she’s still sarcastic, cynical Aubrey Plaza, but it’s surprising to see this much warmth as she encounters her younger self (and, eventually, her first true love).
Unlike a lot of coming-of-age movies, Elliott’s whole family are written and played as if they, too, have their own lives outside of the movie. Her younger brothers, Max and Spencer have personality quirks: Max is obsessed with golf, Spencer with Irish actress Saoirse Ronan. But they’re not reduced to caricatures. Both get their moments to shine as they reveal their own dreams and feelings. I don’t think I’m wrong to notice that, like with the little brother in National Anthem, the film kind of telegraphs Spencer’s egg-hood without making a big deal of childhood transness. (Maybe that’s also Canada.)
It’s important that these characters all feel real, because the central theme of the movie seems to be appreciating the people you love while you can. Older Elliott’s advice mostly centers around reminding Young Elliott to spend time with her parents and siblings, enjoy her quiet life, and not make the mistakes she made.
Which of course, Young Elliott will make. Because she’s still Elliott. And that’s the lesson Older Elliott has to learn.
What Does My Old Ass Mean?
I like that My Old Ass makes no effort to explain how the time-bending works. The first time Older Elliott appears, it’s after Young Elliott has taken shrooms. When Young Elliott tries calling Older Elliott’s phone number, Older Elliott exclaims “Holy shit, this worked!” The next time Older Elliott appears, she says “I had to eat like three pounds of my girlfriend’s friend’s weed to get here.”
Is it drugs? Is it technology? Is it magic? Who cares!
Older Elliott’s future is ambiguous – there are hints that her world is in an active or post-apocalyptic state. She warns Young Elliott to enjoy her dad’s salmon because she’s going to miss them when they’re gone. At one point, Old Elliott hangs up because of air raid sirens going off in the background.
But unlike your standard-issue sci-fi action-thriller, those conditions have nothing to do with Elliott’s decisions. It’s just the world Older Elliott lives in. Elliott is no Sarah Connor – the fate of humanity doesn’t rest on her taking action and saving the world. Or even changing the course of her own life.
Spoilers, so move on now if you don’t want to know:
After Young Elliott spends the whole movie wondering what Chad does that is so terrible, she learns the truth. Chad doesn’t do anything wrong except die young, breaking Elliott’s heart. Crucially, Older Elliott never reveals what happens to Chad – only that Elliot “can’t save him”:
He dies after you’ve fallen so madly in love with him you can’t see straight. After you can’t imagine loving anybody else ever again. And you can’t find anything bad about Chad because there isn’t anything bad about Chad.
It’s a moment of truth for both Elliotts. Her older self has spent days urging Young Elliott to appreciate what she has while she has it. Now she presents her with a real test – one that Older Elliott is not willing to accept herself: “It is so hard, and I don’t want you to have to feel that shit.”
So when Young Elliott resolves “I’m gonna love him so hard for however long we have,” Older Elliott’s knee-jerk reaction is “You’re just saying that because you’re young and dumb.”
And here is why My Old Ass has something to say to you, the readers of Midlife Queer. Young Elliott challenges Older Elliott: “If you weren’t young and dumb you’d never be brave enough to do anything […] And that’s what lets you actually live.”
So, in the time-honored tradition, the student becomes the teacher, reminding Older Elliott who she was before her heart was broken (and the world apparently fell apart).
Oh, and Chad can see Older Elliott.
Should You See My Old Ass?
It’s funny to call a movie about a kid getting advice from her time-traveling future self “honest” and “real,” but those are the words that come to mind. Aside from the high-concept elements, My Old Ass feels like a movie made from genuine feeling. Everything about Park’s movie feels lived-in – the acting, the writing, the directing (which makes rural Canada look heavenly).
Yeah, it’s worth seeing My Old Ass. It’s also fun to ask your friends and loved ones, “Do you want to see My Old Ass?” And to loudly proclaim, “I love My Old Ass!”
I promise, no one will get tired of that joke. Nobody.
