Lee Kirk’s coming-of-age comedy earns affection through its young cast and musical enthusiasm. Thin characters and broad jokes limit the pleasure, but there is enough warmth here for those who like their teenage rebellion amiable.
Nimrods is an amiable coming-of-age road comedy whose young cast makes its familiar story tolerable. Lee Kirk, who writes and directs, approaches teenage enthusiasm with affection, and that counts for something in a genre prone to making its characters look foolish. The trouble is how little the screenplay develops them beyond their initial appeal. At 107 minutes, the film has enough time to give us more. It is a decent choice for the interested, rather than a recommendation we would press on everyone.
Mason Thames gives Tommy an understated presence that helps considerably. We warmed to him because he does not push for our affection, a welcome restraint alongside the broader comedy. The young cast also has convincing chemistry, making their shared company pleasurable even when the writing supplies little surprise. That matters in a road comedy: familiar situations become easier to forgive when the people occupying them seem comfortable together.
Lee Kirk’s screenplay is less convincing about the characters as individuals. Underdevelopment need not be fatal to a light comedy, but here it limits how much their experiences can mean to us. Enjoying a group together does not tell us everything we need to know about its members, and the script too often settles for that collective likeability. The sincerity is welcome; another pass at the characters would have been welcome too.
The direction has a related weakness in its broadly played humour. Lee Kirk gets an easy rapport from the young performers, yet the more emphatic comedy feels unnecessary beside it. The film’s scrappy, handmade quality is a better fit for that rapport. David Robert Jones handles the cinematography, Ryan Brown the editing and O’Shay Brooks the production design; the collective impression is agreeably unpolished, although that cannot make the familiar storytelling feel new.
The music, credited to Alec Puro, provides another substantial part of the appeal, with Green Day songs given considerable prominence. Their exuberance makes sense alongside the film’s affection for teenage musical enthusiasm, and there is pleasure in its willingness to enjoy them without embarrassment. The repeated reliance on the same band also narrows the soundtrack’s range. After a while, another burst of familiar energy offers less than a change of musical direction might have done. The songs are enjoyable, but the film asks them to supply a considerable share of its excitement.
Against the usual coming-of-age comedy, Nimrods distinguishes itself chiefly through the performers’ ease with one another. Its treatment of punk is approachable and sweet, with little of the unruliness that the musical association might suggest. That is a legitimate choice, and gentleness need not count against a film. It does, however, leave the thin characterisation and broad humour with fewer surprises to compensate for them.
There is enough goodwill here to sustain a modest evening, particularly for anyone already fond of teenage comedies and Green Day. Mason Thames gives the film a useful quietness, and the ensemble makes the company worth keeping. Our reservation is that affection for these performers keeps being asked to cover gaps in the writing. Choose it for the cast and the songs; expect little that will unsettle the familiar routine.
