An indie sniffle, nearly a parody of what the indie “establishment” has become, or elsewhere, the banal coming-of-age melodrama.Our pluck-less protagonist is closed off from all sides — the unavailable mother, the absent father, the deranged sibling, etc., etc., etc., with no comparable way to avoid the train directed at her. Then a beam of light shines on her in the form of her English teacher, encouraging her poetry-writing and buttering her up for competition. Of course, the buttering up is for another reason (a truly embarrassing scene) and the thought all along is who cares? A poorly amateur effort from first-timer Karen Moncrieff, it sags and drags all along the way while the girl (the diffident Agnes Bruckner, whose range of expression ranges from the crinkled nose, to non-crinkled) does enough moping for herself so that you don’t have to. For a real hardknock life, try Sweet Sixteen or even better, try Lilya 4-ever. With David Strathairn.[Not to be bothered with.]
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