Jon Poll’s “Charlie Bartlett” begins with a string of clichés. A sharp, insecure but very rich high schooler is kicked out of prep school and starts public school only to find he doesn’t fit in. Complete with swirlies, a bimbo mother and lust for the principal’s daughter, one begins to wonder how “Charlie Bartlett” is different from every other movie starring teen angst since the 1980s.
But then “Charlie Barlett” takes a turn for the weird. Charlie, the 17-year-old played by Anton Yelchin, gets creative. His beyond-his-years intelligence meets his overwhelming desire to be accepted and results in the scheme of the 21st century: therapy. Setting up office in the boys’ bathroom, Charlie listens to the mental anxieties of his peers and reiterates their issues to various psychiatrists, who prescribe him the drugs to match the various disorders. He then sells these drugs back to his classmates, while simultaneously winning their approval and adoration.
Yet, aside from this clever plot twist on the old why-doesn’t-anyone-like-me film, “Charlie Bartlett” contains not an iota of insight. What starts out as a lonely kid who dreams of popularity turns into a not-so-lonely kid, worshipped by his classmates, who realizes that conviction and other people’s well- being are more important than being popular. And that’s about it. I’m pretty sure there’s not one show or movie about high school that doesn’t come to that identical conclusion.
In addition to the criminally clichéd aspect of the film, its unrealistic quality is also a major pitfall. The line outside the boys’ bathroom where Charlie counsels is the length of the hallway every day and includes a good portion of the school’s female population. While the principal grows increasingly suspicious of the crowd, he never thinks to actually enter the bathroom to quell his misgivings.
Furthermore, when Charlie actually admits to his principal that he’s been selling anti-depressants to his classmates, the principal sighs and frustratingly complains that he’ll never be able to prove it. One would think a verbal confession to the principal himself would be enough. The movie’s unbelievability eliminates any chance of empathy that may have survived its plagiarized insight.
As a whole, the film feels like a writer living vicariously through his protagonist. The whole movie rings with falsified nostalgia, as if the man behind the curtain was trying to rewrite his high school years exactly how he wished they had occurred. What guy wouldn’t want to lose his virginity to the principal’s beautiful daughter and moments later announce it to the whole school while they cheer for his good fortune?
These snags make the film uninspiring, but it’s never boring. The confessions of the misguided teenagers are often hysterical, and Yelchin’s portrayal of Charlie is nothing short of brilliant. While the script doesn’t allot much depth to Charlie, Yelchin makes room, playing him as an endearing, highly reactive and falsely confident kid. His acting abilities trump those of the rest of the cast, including Robert Downey Jr.’s impressive and comedic portrayal of Charlie’s alcoholic principal.
With the right expectations, moviegoers will not be let down. But the wrong ones will drive patrons straight to the nearest Blockbuster on a quest to rediscover their faith in cinema.
