For most people, the interview question “Where do you see yourself in five years?” requires some hypothetical thinking. For Elliott, she could just send a text to find out.
It all started when the 18-year-old Elliott decided to celebrate her birthday by getting high on psychedelic mushrooms. And before long, she found herself sitting next to, well, herself—albeit the 39-year-old version of herself. After a moment or two of disbelief, Elliott began asking questions that might set her up for the future.
Well, Older Elliott wasn’t exactly sure how this all worked. So, wanting to avoid the paradoxical issues that might arise from such a conversation, she didn’t give her younger self much to go on. However, the Older Elliott did say one thing with certainty:
Stay away from any guys named Chad.
When Elliott wakes up the next morning, her future counterpart was gone. Elliott chalks it all up to nothing more than a vivid, drug-induced hallucination. That is, of course, until she strikes up a conversation with another swimmer while she’s at a lake. One who happens to be named Chad.
That’s when Elliott reconsiders what happened the night before. She checks her contact list on her phone. And she finds a new contact—one under the name “My Old A–.” And when she texts it, she gets responses from her 39-year-old self.
And while Older Elliott still refuses to tell her what stocks she should invest in, she does start giving Younger Elliott advice: to spend time with her family before she leaves for college in Toronto soon; to stop worrying what others think of her.
And above all, to stay away from the lovable Chad.
My Old A– is something akin to a film version of the sentimental phrase, “Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.” Throughout the film, Elliott is forced to grapple with the idea of good things coming to an end: her parents selling her childhood farm; the realization that the nostalgic games of her youth are fading into her past; the recognition that, when she leaves for college in a few days, her relationship with her brothers will be different.
There’s more there, too: even Elliott’s mother shares her struggle with letting her daughter leave for university. But the mother-daughter conversation is likewise indicative of the position that the film takes on such bittersweet circumstances: Despite how painful big changes in our lives might be, they’re good things to appreciate—and we shouldn’t avoid them just to miss what mourning might come alongside the good. In fact, the bitter side of bittersweet can often indicate just how good the sweet side was.
As for Older Elliott, she offers retroactive advice to her younger self, encouraging her to use what remains of her summer to appreciate her family—more specifically, to spend time with her mother and brothers. Older Elliott tells her younger self that she’ll regret not doing so in the future, since “the only thing you can’t get back is time.”
And, to Younger Elliott’s credit, she listens, rebuilding the bridges she’d all but burned with her parents and siblings. As she does so, she realizes just how much she’s damaged those relationships because of her actions. Because Elliott made it no secret how excited she was to leave the farm for Toronto, she unintentionally created a wedge between herself and the rest of them. She doesn’t have much time before she leaves, but Elliott works on repairing what she can.
Older Elliott also warns—in a nugget of wisdom mirroring the first part of Ecclesiastes—that there will be plenty of moments in Elliott’s life when she gets what she thought she wanted but realizes that it doesn’t fulfill her.
Elliott wonders if Older Elliott might be God, to which Older Elliott jokingly confirms—before clarifying that she’s kidding. The two women use words such as “conjure” and “summon” to describe how Younger Elliot’s drug use apparently caused Older Elliott to show up. Why this occurs is never explained, but there is certainly a spiritual component related to the pair’s connection through time.
Elliott briefly considers if something is “God’s plan.” Someone references transcendental meditation. Someone references karma.
Elliott briefly believes she’s a lesbian, since she’s only ever been attracted to women. We see her pursue that belief by passionately kissing another woman and letting her touch Elliott’s clothed breasts. We’re told the two have sex, and we see them under some sheets. Likewise, Elliott passionately kisses a man while on top of him, and they have offscreen sex. Elliott furthermore has a sexual dream about a man which references oral sex. About half a dozen scenes show couples, both heterosexual and homosexual, kissing each other.
We see a few women’s naked rears on a couple occasions, and we see a naked Elliott from behind. Elliott skinny dips, and while we don’t see anything, she does get caught by a man.
In order to prove she is who she says she is, Older Elliott tells Younger Elliott about the difference in size between her breasts. Elliott asks to kiss her older self, and the two quickly kiss. Elliott also asks to touch her older version’s rear, but the Older Elliott refuses. Elliott likewise wonders if her older self has had a threesome, and Older Elliott confesses that she doesn’t have the energy.
A woman wears a shirt that makes it evident she isn’t wearing a bra, and Elliott wears a revealing top. A man is seen shirtless. Elliott drinks from a mug that depicts a naked woman covered only by black censor bars.
One of Elliott’s friends identifies as “queer,” and Elliott’s youngest brother (played by a young boy who identifies as nonbinary) displays some effeminate tendencies. Elliott is ashamed when her friend jokes that Elliott might be straight for considering her feelings for Chad. Elliott settles on being “bi” or “pan.” On a similar note, when someone references Elliott’s friend, he uses “they” instead of “she.”
People throw around crude sexual names for a boat they’re trying to sell. Likewise, Elliott describes the older version of herself with a crude title for moms. There’s a joke about polygamy. And the movie promotes a problematic hookup culture.
None.
We hear more than 80 uses of the f-word, including a couple of instances that are preceded by “mother.” The s-word is used more 20 times. Likewise, there are multiple uses of “a–,” “b–ch,” “d-ck,” “d–n,” “h—” and “t-ts.” God’s name is used in vain nearly 40 times. Likewise, Jesus’ name is used in vain four times.
Drug use is obviously prevalent, as Elliott’s hallucinogenic trip is central to the movie’s plot. She and her two friends make tea with psychedelic mushrooms, and they all get high. Later, Elliott does the same thing again, leading to a drug-induced hallucination. Likewise, Older Elliott references using drugs in order to talk in person to younger Elliott. In every instance, audiences aren’t warned about the real dangers of drug use and abuse, and it’s made to look safe, fun and humorous.
We hear a reference to a “tequila incident.”
Three women urinate onscreen. We hear a reference to a urinary-tract infection.
Older Elliott confesses that, in the future, no one is allowed to have more than two children anymore.
Younger Elliott is called out for her racism when her brother says she wrote that “cis white men don’t need any more happiness” in his birthday card. Likewise, she claims that the “gender binary is killing us all.”
When coworkers for Focus on the Family ask Plugged In writers about our opinions about recent releases, it’s common for them to hear a qualifier at the start of our response.
That qualifier usually sounds something like, “Well, from a strictly Plugged In content perspective …” followed by a list of a film’s worst content concerns. Afterwards, we’ll reward that coworker by telling what we think about the movie plot-wise and possibly include a few personal thoughts apart from the typical content grid we use to evaluate a film’s concerns. And sometimes, our review of the content and the overall story can be vastly different. That’s the case for the crudely named My Old A–.
From a strictly Plugged In content perspective, it’s a tough comedy to sit through. The movie contains a whole lot of sexual content, whether it’s female nudity, sexual quips or an LGBT relationship that’s feels shoehorned in for societal brownie points. And in terms of crude language, our protagonist can hardly utter a full sentence without tossing in an f-word. In addition, drug use is integral to the plot, the risks of which aren’t meaningfully explored at all.
All of those issues and more are such a shame, because there are some really moving themes embedded in that content. The movie deals with the bittersweet feelings that come when good things come to an end—and it recognizes why a mournful ending doesn’t make those memories any less good or worth having.
That message comes through loud and clear in the problematically titled My Old A–. But from the movie’s title onward, that message is marred continually by bitter content issues that undermine its sweetness.
Kennedy Unthank studied journalism at the University of Missouri. He knew he wanted to write for a living when he won a contest for “best fantasy story” while in the 4th grade. What he didn’t know at the time, however, was that he was the only person to submit a story. Regardless, the seed was planted. Kennedy collects and plays board games in his free time, and he loves to talk about biblical apologetics. He thinks the ending of Lost “wasn’t that bad.”
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