The new film “S#!%house” (the bowdlerised first part of the title rhymes with “flit”) is performing a deft kind of misdirection with its presumptuous title. The name might suggest something defiantly ribald like the R-rated comedies of the early aughts – a kind of “Euro Trip” adventure. And the film’s logline, a comedy-drama about a freshman acclimating to college, might support that suggestion. But, “S#!%house” is anything but. Funny it is, but never ribald and rarely presumptuous. Instead, Cooper Raiff’s feature debut is defiant only for the earnest and sincere tenderness it affords to a story about a young man adapting to the chaos of college life.
Raiff, at 23, adapts his original short-film version of the story for the feature, for which he has five different credits. He writes, directs and stars in the feature. He also co-edits it with Autumn Dea and co-produces it with Will Youmans and Divi Crockett. But, nothing in “S#!%house” suggests the kind of solipsistic feature one might imagine from such a young first-time filmmaker wearing so many hats. From the ambivalent ennui of the opening scene, Raiff establishes a skill at cultivating atmosphere. A skill that “S#!%house” will depend on as it continues.
The bulk of the film covers a few days. Six-months into his freshman year, Alex (played by Raiff) is struggling to adapt to the casualness that comes with life at college. His roommate is a mildly obnoxious stoner, and Alex’s self-conscious diffidence does not translate well to the party life on campus. When we first meet him, he’s having a dual conversation – one with his palpably disinterested roommate, and one with the stuffed animal on his bed. It’s an ambitious opening that manages to be neither as kitschy or as absurd as it sounds, and it’s a good start to a film that counts its capacity to telegraph earnestness without being ungainly among its strengths.
After a less-than-stellar night out, Alex begins a tentative flirtation with his slightly jaded Resident Assistant, a sophomore, that burgeons into something potentially deeper. The middle section of the film covers their first night-together as a meet-cute that never seems to end as we watch Alex and Maggie grow closer to each other, amidst the usual awkwardness of a potentially now developing romance. The next morning, Alex’s emotional openness feels mismatched against Maggie’s prickliness. And for the remainder of the film, Alex must wrestle with what he wants from his life, college, and Maggie.
It’s a simple plot, by design. Raiff’s script is less concerned with plot-points, signalling rising actions and climaxes. Instead, “S#!%house” is explicitly rendered as a loose kind of character study as the narrative hews close to Alex’s perspective as he tries to awkwardly fit into the world around him. Dylan Gelula, most familiar as the eternally annoyed Xanthippe on “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” wears her prickliness on her sleeve, while managing a believable romantic chemistry with Raiff. Of the five hats he wears in the film, Raiff is best as an actor mastering a blank state of confusion as Alex reacts to the oddness of the world around him. For much of “S#!%house”, it’s an internal performance. Years of self-consciousness, nervousness and general disconsolateness add up to put Alex at odds with his surroundings. There’s an incredibly casual reference to a recent family tragedy that the film plays off, but the more it goes on – the more we realise the shrewd way that Raiff (the writer and director) gives his audience credit to recognise when a character is lying. For the most part, Raiff as a director is comfortable stepping back and allowing “S#!%house” to expand in its own peculiar way as a casual romp through a mildly familiar world of young adults learning to grow up, until the casualness gives way to something more emotionally potent.
There are two climaxes in the film, the first is Alex’s own coming-of-age, and the second is the romantic plot. And as lovely as Raiff and Gelula are together, it’s the former that’s more impactful. Amy Landecker plays Alex’s mother in a few brief scenes, and in the film’s climactic moment her silent reaction to a phone call feels like a welcome reminder of how excellent a performer she is. The moment is not without its teething issues. It’s an emotional wallop in a film that’s hitherto benefitted from a welcomely diffident nonchalance, and Raiff falters in parts at moving between the acute emotion of the scene and its underlying humour. But it works. Both for the propulsive way it pushes the story forward, and for the ways it recontextualises the film. Moreover, though, it’s such an unguarded moment of sincerity in an era when young adults on screen are expected to communicate through ironic detachment.
But there is nothing about “S#!%house” that is detached. Its epilogue, a couple of years later than the rest of the film, seems slight because of how invested Raiff is in these characters and even as the film seems more naturally ended moments before, the lingering desire Raiff has to stay with these people feels fitting for a film that’s so unabashedly warm and gentle. It’s a winning balm of a film, especially wrapped in a genre that is so often unrepentantly opposed to warmth and gentleness. “S#!%house” is overflowing with empathy. That it manages to consistently be humorous amidst that empathy is a reward for audiences.
S#!%house is streaming for rent on Vudu and Prime Video and will be available for purchase later in the year.
