Issue 25: My Old Ass
Currently on coming out, coming of age, and coming together.
📝 Reviewing: My Old Ass (2024)
But no more, if you let me inside of your world
There'll be one less lonely girl
If you could meet your older self, what would you ask? And if you had the chance to change your life, would you? These are the questions at the heart of the upcoming film My Old Ass, where 18-year-old Elliott confronts these profound dilemmas during a mind-bending mushroom trip with friends. As the trip takes an unexpected turn, Elliott comes face-to-face with her 39-year-old self, setting off a journey that could easily drift into high-concept sci-fi or cheesy camp.
But this film resists those paths, opting instead for a grounded, authentic exploration of youth, mortality, and sexuality. Elliott's experience becomes a poignant reflection on the transformation between what she thought she knew about herself, who she is now, and who she might become. This theme resonated even more as I watched it in a packed theater on the opening night of CinemaQ, Denver’s queer film festival.
As the credits rolled, I couldn’t help but think, “I wish I wrote that.” The script is genuine, sharp, and funny AF, blending witty dialogue with an insightful narrative. But My Old Ass is more than just a coming-of-age dramedy; it’s a heartfelt reflection on the boldness of youth and the wisdom that only time can bring. It’s young, reckless, a surprise, and a delight.
If you could meet your older self—if you had the power to change your life—would you? We learn from experience, not advice. Instead of fixating on "What’s next?" maybe the real question is, "What now?" because time doesn’t wait—it rushes by until, before you know it, you’re an old ass. My Old Ass will have a limited theatrical release on September 13.
📝 Reviewing: Dìdi (2024)
But can we fake it? Can we make believe?
I'm so full of love, it deeply sickens me
In middle school, my nickname was "Opie." It sounds cool at first—until you realize it’s short for Ethiopian. The thing is, I grew up in Butler, PA, home of the Bantam Jeep, a 98% white population, and the recent Trump assassination attempt. As a tan-skinned kid, I stood out. When I tried to correct the bullies by telling them I wasn’t Ethiopian but Thai, they demanded I speak Taiwanese to prove it. When I tried to correct them again, well… I decided to find solace and safety in things like emo and pop-punk music, skateboarding, and art.
I loved—and still love—bands like Hellogoodbye and The Starting Line. My AIM screen name was “hiddencinema,” I discovered synthesizers through Motion City Soundtrack, blacked out the pink tag on my stepsister’s hand-me-down Keds with a Sharpie, spent summers getting skate “clips” with the few friends I had, agonized over my MySpace Top 8, and made plenty of cringe-worthy decisions just to look cool in front of my crushes.
So when I saw Dìdi, a film about an impressionable and bullied 13-year-old Taiwanese American in 2008 who went through nearly the same experiences—even down to the music and clothes—it hit me. I’ve never felt so seen by a film before. It’s about feeling torn between your Asian identity and being "just half," deciding whether to go by your given name or embrace a nickname, and the awkwardness, loneliness, and sense of being an outcast and a phony while also discovering who you really are.
In Dìdi, Chris, or "Wang Wang," learns how to skate, flirt, and love his family. But ultimately, he discovers it’s much harder to pretend to be something you’re not and far more rewarding to embrace who you truly are. This film reminded me that twenty years later, I’m still learning to embrace my true self—and it reminded me to love those who accept me, even if they don’t understand me. Dìdi is currently in theaters.
📣 Film Screening: Join or Die (2023)
In a world of increasing individualism, we must find ways to rebuild the social ties that once held us together.
For the past few months, I’ve been helping to develop The Company, a membership-supported third place designed for meeting, gathering, celebrating, and fostering community. My involvement stems from a deep belief in the power of intentional community-building because I understand that deep relationships don’t just happen—they’re constructed. While the benefits of community are obvious, it wasn’t until I watched the documentary Join or Die that I understood the social, financial, and political impacts.
Join or Die, inspired by Robert Putnam's book Bowling Alone, examines the state of community in America. The film explores three crucial civic questions: What makes democracy work? Why is American democracy in crisis? And what can we do to address it?
Join or Die is creative, engaging, and educational, making a compelling case for why you should join a club—and why the future of America might depend on it. We believe in this film’s message and are thrilled that The Company will host Denver’s only screening of this film on September 3rd. Tickets are available for purchase here. Join us. Or die.
Thanks for being here.
— Justin