This incredibly charming film is about two best friends, Joe and Patrick, sophomores in high school, who, one summer, decide they’ve had enough of their obnoxious parents and run away to live in the woods.
There, along with a third kid they hardly know, a delightfully weird little dude named Biaggio who attaches himself to them and won’t let go (“What is this kid doing here?” Patrick asks. “I don’t know,” Joe replies, “I’m afraid to tell him to leave — I don’t know what he’s capable of.”), they build themselves a pretty remarkable little house and begin going about the business of becoming men, sparsely-haired, teenaged mustaches and all. (For 90 seconds of Biaggio awesomeness, by the way, go here — you can thank me later: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqvImEZkHDI.)
As is usually the case with these things, it’s not long before a girl shows up and throws a long, blonde monkey wrench into the works, breaking up the band, so to speak. Meanwhile, back at home, Patrick’s parents and Joe’s dad (Nick Offerman, essentially playing Ron Swanson with a teenage son), are working with the police to try to find their boys.
Patrick’s parents, who are the kind of lame-o dorks we all perceive our parents to be when we’re 15, mostly just seem befuddled. It’s Joe’s dad who has the real transformation — after his wife died a few years back, he became emotionally shut-off from his kids, a gruff father with a lot of strict rules. As the summer progresses, though, his initial fury over Joe’s behavior softens into exactly the kind of heartache I imagine most parents feel when their children leave home, the kind of heartache that reminds you why you put up with those crappy teenage years in the first place.
This is an utterly delightful film — overall one of the sweetest, warmest, and funniest pictures of 2013 for me. Absolutely, totally, and completely recommended. Go watch it right now. RIGHT NOW, I SAID.
Genre: Drama, Comedy
Cast: Nick Robinson, Gabriel Basso, Moises Arias, Nick Offerman, Erin Moriarty, Craig Cackowski, Megan Mullally