My Old Ass is the sophomore feature directed by Canadian actor-turned-director Megan Park. Her debut, The Fallout, really moved me, so I was excited to see her new work.
At just a few minutes shy of 90 minutes, the film packs a punch so strong that it outshines even some three-hour epics. It’s such an innocent story; though the idea isn’t entirely fresh or unique, it’s presented with heart and earnestness. Like many small-budget films, it’s a deeply rooted story, with characters who are grounded and genuine, making the Canadian countryside feel like a place you’d want to live in.
Much like Lady Bird, the central character here can’t wait to get away from her small town and head to college in a big city. However, what makes Elliott different is that she loves her family a little more than Lady Bird did. Comparing it to the best parts of Lady Bird and CODA would still undersell it—it’s very much a film of its own, though the influences are visible.
One thing I love about both of Park’s films is her ability to capture the vocabulary and essence of Gen Z. Nothing feels over-the-top or forced; she somehow understands this generation and portrays it with authenticity. The characters and ideas are progressive, and while some might label it “woke” (a word I despise), the film doesn’t come across as preachy.
I also appreciated that there are no villainous characters here; each character is distinct and memorable in their own way. There’s the youngest brother who dreams of marrying Saoirse Ronan and moving to Ireland (I’d love that too!), and the middle child, who plays golf and aspires to take over the family’s cranberry farm. There are two friends with contrasting experiences on shrooms, and both parents are portrayed as kind and refreshingly undramatic.
This lack of malice or melodrama made the viewing experience so smooth. It’s just a girl navigating life, grappling with her uncertainties, with a touch of fantasy and magical realism. I think this could be for Gen Z what Lady Bird was for us seven years ago.
The film also includes interesting homages and references to Little Women, Euphoria, and even the Justin Bieber craze among nine-year-olds. I remember feeling similar anxieties when I left home for college—wondering how it would all turn out, how the “adulting” would go, and if I would lose my younger self forever.
I wish my younger self had had this film back then. But watching it now feels like hugging that past version of me and reassuring him, “Don’t worry, you got this!”
Mihir, now a practicing doctor, gracefully navigates the delicate balance between the demands of medicine and the enchantment of cinema. Amidst patient consultations and hospital rounds, he finds sanctuary and inspiration in the magical world of film. For Mihir, movies are not merely an escape but a reservoir of renewed energy, where each frame whispers tales that reignite his spirit. His dual identity as a healer and a cinephile weaves a unique tapestry, lending Review Tales a voice that is both profound and poetic.