Graduation caps fly, and the soundtrack drops Gary Glitter — an instant wince. From there it’s glossy ’90s: Gap shifts, coffee-shop hangs, friends in the same room. I miss the clothes; I don’t miss the certainty.
It plays like an American cousin to This Life: chatty, aspirational, and quietly rattled. I'm Gen X at the tail end, so it never mirrored my twenties; it pitched them. The film also treats Vickie's sexual confidence like a hazard sign, capped off with an HIV scare that screams early-90s anxiety.
When it’s good, it nails the post-uni fog: job dread, relationship hedging, everyone auditioning for adulthood. Ryder makes Lelaina sharp and sincerely irritating, especially once her documentary gets bought and re-cut into someone else’s rhythm. Hawke’s Troy is charisma in a leather jacket — and still a thin bet, which makes the final swoon feel oddly forgiving.