Mid90s

There is something remarkably authentic in the way Jonah Hill observes these kids. He does not turn adolescence into a wonderful period or create an idealized postcard of the nineties. There is friendship, skateboarding, music and freedom, but also violence, humiliation, alcohol, a desperate need to belong and some incredibly stupid decisions. That is precisely why Mid90s ultimately works as a memory: the good moments and the bad ones are mixed together, just as they usually are when we look back on our own adolescence.
It inevitably brings Kids to mind. The way the film follows the boys through the streets, listens to conversations that seem almost spontaneous and observes their behaviour without constantly explaining it clearly connects with the cinema of Larry Clark and Harmony Korine. But Jonah Hill is far less nihilistic. There is darkness here and some genuinely harsh situations, yet underneath it all remains a certain tenderness towards the characters. He does not judge them from the perspective of an adult who already knows what they should have done; he lets them behave like kids who are still discovering where the limits are.
Sunny Suljic carries Stevie beautifully because he captures that mixture of vulnerability and fascination. He desperately wants to belong and is prepared to tolerate almost anything to achieve it. The others do not feel like characters designed merely to perform dramatic functions either: they have that recognizable mixture of cruelty, loyalty, insecurity and posturing. Even the most ridiculous conversations help create the impression that we are watching a real group rather than an adult reconstruction of how teenagers are supposed to talk.
The film also understands something dangerous about that age: the feeling of being indestructible. The boys drink, fight, challenge each other and do things without seriously considering the consequences. The car sequence works precisely because we know the driver is extremely drunk, and for several minutes the film makes us feel that one stupid decision could end in the worst possible way. Suddenly the fun, bravado and need to impress stop looking harmless.
The music is excellent and becomes an essential part of the period atmosphere without feeling like a playlist inserted simply to trigger nostalgia. The aspect ratio, grain and Christopher Blauvelt's cinematography work just as well: everything seems as though it might have come from a tape discovered years later in a box. The point is not merely to reconstruct what people wore or listened to in 1995, but to recreate the texture of a memory.
And that is where the ending completely won me over. Fourth Grade gathers the footage he has been shooting and turns it into a small film about those days. There is no need to explain what happens to everyone afterwards or provide a huge dramatic conclusion. Watching them together, laughing, skating and messing around is enough. The present of the film suddenly becomes the past almost before our eyes.
That final video is beautiful precisely because it seems so insignificant. Years later, those kids will probably remember that summer very differently, but the images preserve a small piece of who they were for a moment. Jonah Hill understands that growing up also means realizing too late that ordinary days can become fundamental memories. Mid90s is rough, imperfect and sometimes quite sad, but it also has tremendous warmth. When it ends, it leaves behind something very difficult to manufacture: the feeling of having watched a piece of youth that can never return.