Watching The Kings of Summer and The Way Way Back would be painful—but I know it’s a good kind of pain, at least. That pain means I’ve still not forgotten my grandfather, whose memory lives forever in mine.
Jim Rash and Nat Faxon’s directorial debut perfectly encapsulates the importance of finding your place, being yourself, and being supported by those who love you for who you are. Fourteen-year-old Duncan (Liam James) is at the height of that emotionally awkward age when it’s challenging to communicate with yourself, let alone others. But his awkwardness is only made worse by a family reshuffle that has seen a new man arrive on the scene for his mum, the wealthy Trent, played by Steve Carell.
Although The Way Way Back is a modern film, its bouncy ’80s hits and indie rock soundtrack open an anachronistic rift for you to dive into, one drenched in the hormonal riffs and seductive synths of the 1980s. In many ways, it feels like a valentine to the films of John Hughes, whilst standing firmly on its own two feet.
While it may now feel like the kind of film championed as a darling of the indie film scene, it took years for Nash and Faxon to secure funding. Eventually, Fox Searchlight Pictures agreed to distribute the movie following the success of Little Miss Sunshine and Juno. Yet it remains one of the more underrated coming-of-age films of the last decade, despite its impressive cast; after all, it brings together Toni Collette, Sam Rockwell, Allison Janney, and Maya Rudolph. Its deeply impressive cast and cracking screenplay help it hit a sweet spot between relatable teen comedy and impactful adolescent drama without one overpowering the other.
Sometimes, films come to you at the right time, and for me, The Way Way Back was one of those movies. I fell in love with this film while also having to come to terms with the loss of my grandfather, unintentionally clinging to it as a kind of cinematic safety blanket. I would play the soundtrack on a loop, especially its final three tracks, “Alone”, “Go Where The Love Is”, and “The Way Way Back.” Somehow, this trio reflected my emotional journey, encouraging me to feel the painful emotions I tried to wrestle with but could not vocalise.
In more ways than one, The Way Way Back was a true coming-of-age film for me, and its effect on me has solidified perfectly in amber. Listening to even a moment of the soundtrack propels me back to my 14-year-old self, a temporal doorway way, way back. Just like Liam, it felt like I was drowning, unable to find the strength to swim up to the surface. The Way Way Back was like a lifebuoy thrown out to me, and I clutched to it until I eventually remembered how to float.
Jordan Vogt-Roberts’ debut feature captures the magic of adolescent friendships as everything changes. If you’ve ever built a base, den, or hidden fortress with your friends, then The Kings of Summer is like your memories being played back to you at 24 frames a second. The brotherhood of Joe (Nick Robinson), Patrick (Gabriel Basso) and Biaggio (Moisés Arias) feels painfully honest, especially in the film’s more tender moments, where teen life begins to invade the comfort and security of a childhood coming to an end.
Ryan Miller’s soundtrack is undoubtedly one of the greatest film soundtracks of the last two decades – every track shines with a tender emotion that’s inexplicable yet so intimately understood. His incorporation of a menagerie of instruments, from synths to 8-bit video game SFX, is a testament to the emotional intelligence that went into crafting the film’s sound. At times, Kings of Summer feels like a video game adventure bound together by the tone of a tender coming-of-age comedy-drama. There isn’t a day that the poignant melody of ‘Fatherson’ or the contemplative and melancholic twangs of ‘Where Is Joseph Toy?’ do not cross my mind, whether it be through a feeling or a memory that’s snuck into my mind. Ryan Miller somehow captures that indescribable feeling of nostalgia and distils its raw essence into sound.
I found The Kings of Summer at the same time as The Way Way Back, and now the two are like the biblical texts of my adolescence. Both films deal with the complicated relationships many boys have with their dads and the reality that a father figure can emerge from anywhere. For me, it was my grandfather. It’s difficult to overstate how much of who I am stems from my grandfather’s influence – he introduced me to classic films, especially musicals, and would often amuse me with his impressions. He would tell me stories about his life while I sat and listened in awe. To me, both The Way Way Back and The Kings of Summer are, at their heart, detailed explorations of the people who anchor you to the world and its importance.
I adore both The Kings of Summer and The Way Way Back, but I have rarely, if ever, revisited them – because it’s so hard for me to do. The soundtracks alone have a powerful grip over me, reducing me to tears because of the associations etched into my mind. Maybe it is also because watching Liam James’ Duncan or Nick Robinson’s Joe is like seeing the 14-year-old me again, my past life reflected through a cinematic lens. When I see them struggle through their pain, I see myself.
Grief leaves a scar on your brain. You forget about it over time, but it’s always there, waiting for a single moment, memory, smell or experience to rush back into your life. So, watching The Kings of Summer and The Way Way Back would be painful—but I know it’s a good kind of pain, at least. That pain means I’ve still not forgotten my grandfather, whose memory lives forever in mine.
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