Moxie
NETFLIXWhen will the coming-of-age film come of age? It seems cinema has been in a perpetual state of dishing out the same few qualities time and time again, with the only real change being the charms of the individual behind the camera. Enter Amy Poehler of Parks and Recreation fame, who delivers Moxie, a coming-of-age story about a shy girl taking confidence in her mother’s rebellious past. There is, most likely, much to discuss in response to Poehler positioning herself as the confident inspiration for the leading character, but now is neither the time nor place. Throwing her hat into the stuffy, overcrowded ring, it is difficult for anyone to stand out when they’re dealing with such a moderately tired piece.
That is not to say Moxie does not have elements of interest. It wishes to deal with sexism in the school system, and does so to an extent. Poehler has trouble finding the right balance between frivolous, impending adulthood and smashing the patriarchy down with a series of scathing analytics on the schooling system and the modern dependency society has on tradition. Quite a big task for a Netflix comedy, and one that, inevitably, seems too much to bear. Inclusion is there, and rightly so – not just of characters and concepts, but of current events that pry at the minds of creatives and consumers. Therein lies the problem, adapting these broad and haunting messages for a brief comedic juncture is in no way beneficial to whatever movement it wishes to characterise. There is a difference between characterisation and caricatures. A leather jacket donned with Rebel Girl playing in the background is a tad on the nose, even for Netflix.
At the end of the day, though, Moxie is at least in tune with its audience. Memes used as off-hand jokes in the background, rather than rattling the caged spectators, reeling from just how funny the dead memes of yesteryear are. But for every sign lingering in the background, there are awkward, jagged moments that portray characters who have yet to move away from the echo chamber of safe storytelling. A scathing criticism of The Great Gatsby opens the film, and its purpose is weak and ineffective. There are other, pertinent ways of enclosing the meaning of certain characters or what they are meant to represent. Moxie struggles to move itself away from the traditions of old, the one-note characters who detract from the story but are necessary for its survival. Hadley Robinson’s lead performance is certainly watchable, but fails to click with the cast around her. No need to, really, when they are the same stereotypical stylings The Breakfast Club set out decades before.
While the sophomore efforts of a director usually offer audiences a sign that they, as a creative, have grown, Moxie displays few signals of such merit. No doubt Poehler will craft a comfortable niche for herself, but the intended audience of Moxie is as confused as its leading character. To have moxie itself is to have determination, and there is no doubt Poehler has such nerve and will continue to direct films, but she has yet to hit the ground running. Instead, she is barrel-rolling down the path so many actors before her have taken, toward the route of oblivion. Make no mistake, Moxie is not a bad film, but neither is it innovative or inspirational, riffing on the themes the coming-of-age experience has offered for decades, in waning pockets of quality.