By KAITLYN TIFFANY
You aren’t supposed to ignore Jason Reitman movies (Juno, Up in the Air, Young Adult). You are also, if raised on Saturday Night Live reruns, nurtured by Happy Gilmore and critically disillusioned by Jack and Jill,supposed to participate in Adam Sandler’s death throes (burying something you love is part of growing up, or so 1970s coming-of-age pastorals instructed me). And if Ansel Elgort is going to “Shailene Woodley” himself, you don’t want to miss that pivotal vault from Secret Life of the American Teenager to The Descendents, am I right? Right. And maybe that choice of title was a miscommunication. So now I’ve justified my choice to go watch Men, Women and Children alone last night at Cinemapolis. Justifying my choice to stay to the bitter, bitter end is going to be harder (it was to finish my popcorn, guys).
Courtesy of Paramount Pictures