Youth in Revolt

C.D. Payne's novel "Youth in Revolt," published in 1993, became a cult sensation, the kind of honest, hormonal hapless teen lit that gets passed friend-to-friend with the sort of ardor that gets an extra jolt from the worry to not let grown-ups in on the secret. "Youth in Revolt" chronicled the misadventures of Nick Twisp, cast into exile in a trailer park in the wake of his parents' divorce. Nick is trapped between the modesty of his circumstance and the aspirations of his pretentions, between his girl-free present and the tantalizing, out-of-reach possibility of sex. (Even the name is perfect: Is Nick a wispy twit? A twisty wimp? Either way, it's almost worthy of Dickens.)

Here, Nick is played by Michael Cera, who as ever resembles nothing less than a human dandelion, his glowing curls swaying tentatively on the gangly stem of his form. Nick soon meets Sheeni Saunders (Portia Doubleday), the similarly outcast girl-next-trailer. Nick seems to grasp that his nice-guy hesitant ways aren't going to win Sheeni over. And, bluntly, at first there's a concern they might not work to win over the audience, either. We've seen Cera run this play too many times, from "Superbad" to "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist," which is why it comes as such a pleasant surprise when the actor, director Miguel Arteta and screenwriter Gustin Nash pull an unexpected Hail Mary.

Mixing his love of French New Wave films and retro tales of American badassery, Nick takes up an alter ego, Francois Dillinger (also played by Cera), who we see guide Nick through life on-screen. Francois is a mustachioed manipulator whose cool, calm swagger has everything Nick's frazzled, flustered stumbling doesn't. Adolescence is such a schizophrenic state (the calm hum of maturity nearly drowned out by the roar of hormones, the better yearnings struggling to be heard over the worst impulses) that making Nick's id a stylish, chain-smoking, calm and cool physical presence plays out on-screen with inspired authority.

Inspired by Francois, Nick sabotages his mother's love life, runs afoul of the law and tries to ruin Sheeni's life to better drive her into his arms. The device would feel a little too perfect, in fact, if it weren't for how ineptly Nick enacts Francois' ideas, and how Francois clearly holds Nick in contempt. (Nothing, after all, says your alter ego has to like you.) The high-tech trickery needed to make this happen disappears into the film, with due credit to Arteta, and even more to Cera, who transforms himself into a nice double-act.

The film's plot isn't as inventive as its central device, though: Nick hits the road, getting into various scrapes with authority (including local cop Ray Liotta, who, between "Youth in Revolt" and "Observe and Report" is having a good year of apoplexy). Nick stumbles into bizarre situations one after the other, like the holiday party whose guests have been heavily, and unknowingly, dosed with hallucinogens, or being forced to flee an all-girls school in a state of undress, and Cera stumbles the way Fred Astaire danced or Grace Kelly wore gowns. Drugs, desire and desperation mean "Youth in Revolt" will attract teens and repel their parents in equal measure. At the same time, the cast of actors (including Fred Willard, Jean Smart, Steve Buscemi and Zach Galifianakis, all presumably selected by throwing darts at the "Comedy" aisle of your local video shop) also get laughs.

"Youth in Revolt" also seems to follow the "Seinfeld" rule ("no learning, no hugs") and may confound viewers expecting Nick's rampage of romance and crimes (both felonies and misdemeanors) of the heart to have more stern consequences. Then again, didn't we all skate, at least once in our teen years, from paying the piper full fare for what we did? "Youth in Revolt" plays like a weird mix of "American Pie" smut, sweetness and merry misadventures with the addled anarchy and split-screen schizophrenia of "Fight Club." That doesn't always make "Youth in Revolt" work, but it does always make it interesting, and at the very least it's a pleasure to see Cera mock the mannerisms and on-screen persona that have served both him and us up until now.

James Rocchi's writings on film have appeared at Cinematical.com, Netflix.com, SFGate.com and in Mother Jones magazine. He lives in Los Angeles, where every ending is a twist ending.