Release Date: September 13, 2001
Starring: Kieran Culkin, Claire Danes, Ryan Phillippe, Jeff Goldblum, Susan Sarandon, Amanda Peet, Jared Harris, Bill Pullman
Directed by: Burr Steers
Written by: Burr Steers
Distributed by: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
MPAA Rating: R (language, sexuality, drug content)
Watching Igby Goes Down, you cannot help but admire Igby, even want to be him. It's probably because he is the most normal person in a ridiculous world of yuppies, tycoons, and hangers-on, one step ahead of his detractors and armed with the perfectly timed barb and the smarts to match his wits. Or maybe it's because he's sort of like good Will Hunting, except with a sly penchant for intergenerational romance (the trademark of the movies' Disaffected Youth) rather than advanced mathematics. But mostly it's because he's played by Kieran Culkin in a solid, attention-getting performance that serves as the centerpiece of writer/director Burr Steers's thoroughly sarcastic and nearly satiric debut film.
In fact, the only bad thing about Igby is that he does indeed go down, although it will be up to the viewer to decide when exactly this happens. Igby Goes Down is not a conventional film in that it does not have a happy ending -- but at the same time, it does not bracket our hero's demise with dramatic swells of music and awful lighting. Instead, it's buried within a narrative that includes the most entertainingly caustic comedy since last year's The Royal Tenenbaums, albeit with a slightly less affirming denouement.
Here, Culkin, as Igby, is on the lam from his domineering, pill-popping mother Mimi (Susan Sarandon) after flunking out of nearly every prep school on the East Coast and even making a mockery of his mother's attempts to send him to military school. ("I figured it was an empty threat, like with most parents," he says.) Then, after an illicit spending spree with his mom's credit cards, she sends him to live with his wealthy godfather D.H. Baines (Jeff Goldbum) in New York City -- through whom he meets and falls in love with Sookie Sapperstein (Claire Danes), a Bennington dropout with a knack for rolling a perfect joint. But the good times are not bound to last: Igby soon finds himself competing for Sookie's attention with Oliver (Ryan Phillippe), his evil Columbia student of an older brother, all despite connecting with Sookie on a wonderfully bohemian level.
Like Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums, there is a self-aware quality to Igby Goes Down, and the viewer is never quite sure where the sarcasm and satire end. The characters feel genuine, but they also feel removed from the audience by a smoky pane of glass, emotionally detached from the viewer because of their archetypal qualities. The exception is Igby, with whom every moviegoer can identify, mostly because of his ceremonious lack of ambition. "I'm considering my options," he says on more than one occasion, effectively flipping the bird at the world in choosing to live life at his own pace.
Culkin, the younger brother of Home Alone brat Macaulay (and older brother to Rory, who makes an appearance here as a younger version of Igby and also starred as Mel Gibson's son in Signs), does Igby perfectly. Audiences will be tempted to compare his performance here to his work in The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys, although this is a much more polished and remarkably less depressing role. Igby seems to have a handle on the world, however much the rest of the world dislikes it and him, and in his own strange way, he's very well adjusted. So much cannot be said for the Catholic school troublemaker he played in Altar Boys.
Both are the so-called "disaffected youths," but here he is adrift in New York City, which is why there will also be the obvious comparisons to J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye, and truthfully, director Steers does share a taste for Salinger's cold ironies. Sookie and Igby, for instance, seem made for one another, and that might have been the case if not for Igby's older brother Ollie -- who wouldn't have met Sookie if Igby didn't warrant constant surveillance. Such might be Igby's cruel destiny, a punishment for his refusal to fit neatly into any one of life's categories; at the same time, Igby's cleverness is reassuring, that if indeed he is down, he won't be down for long.
Surrounding Igby are a host of colorful characters done up in style by a host of talented actors. Sarandon and Phillippe are positively grating as Igby's mother and older brother, and although for the actress it is a turn against type, the role of a meddling asshole seems to fit Phillippe like a glove. So, too, does the character of the cigar-smoking tycoon D.H. with Jeff Goldblum -- for an actor who is usually seen playing neurotic geeks, he is extremely competent as a self-assured magnate done up in pinstripes. The best, though, is a sparsely used Bill Pullman as Igby's mentally instable dad Jason. Pullman isn't given very much to work with, but with the help of Steers's direction, he conveys Jason's penultimate importance to Igby -- the only thing left in the air is whether Igby idolizes his father or despises him.
Amongst this crush of human depravity, Igby is growing up, and for him, not a moment too soon. But Steers often raises the question of whether Igby is capable of coping with grown-up life. Intellectually, he is superior to many of the adults in the movie, including, at times, his pretentious Columbia-educated brother. But emotionally, he's woefully ill-equipped, and this is never more apparent then when during his moments with Sookie. "You have a huge crush on me, don't you?" she asks him, illustrating the one-sidedness of their relationship. Steers also hints that Igby might be as instable as his father is, although this is a criticism that is better concealed -- partially because everything about Igby's world, including his mother, seems just a little bit insane.
The result is a coming-of-age comedy, mixed with elements of satire and character study. It is a remarkable debut feature from Burr Steers, and one that, despite its attachments to the popular Catcher in the Rye, it is less obnoxious about it than most contemporary films. In fact, Igby is more likeable than Holden Caulfield, despite the fact that he is probably less aware of the problems that face him. It's an interesting paradox, but if there's one thing that Steers and Salinger have it common, it is a facility with irony.
all contents © 2002 Craig Roush