Pick of the week: “The Way, Way Back” is a wistful summer escape The new indie comedy gets adolescence and adulthood just right 
 
 There’s nothing strikingly new or different about “The Way, Way Back,” which is a sweet-natured teenage coming-of-age story set in a beach town on Cape Cod. It’s classic summer counter-programming, a low-tech indie comedy driven by its strong cast and eccentric characters, and flavored with a wistful mixture of romance, loneliness and sea spray. But the directing debut of actors-turned-filmmakers Nat Faxon and Jim Rash (who previously co-wrote the screenplay for Alexander Payne’s “The Descendants”) is beautifully executed, loaded with sharp observational moments, and never cheats either its characters or its audience by descending into raunchy teen-movie cliché. This is a delicately balanced and often very funny holiday alternative suitable for pretty much the entire family; there’s some adult-oriented humor, but nothing that would pose a problem for kids older than 11 or 12. 
 
 Almost anyone who has ever been a teenager will identify with Duncan (Liam James), the nominal protagonist of “The Way, Way Back.” He’s 14, and stuck in that period of early adolescence when you’re no longer a child but aren’t quite prepared, by age or temperament or both, to join the ravening, Darwinian packs of hormone-driven teens. There’s a wordless but marvelous scene when Duncan watches, from inside the beach house, while his mom (the great Toni Collette), his would-be stepdad (Steve Carell) and two of their drunken friends stumble through the dunes for a late-night swim. Simply in the framing of the shots, and Duncan’s splendid, miserable isolation, Faxon and Rash capture something essential about the gulf between teenage certainty and murky adult experience, with considerable sympathy for both. 
 
 These guys write domestic comedy really well, especially when it’s right on the edge of domestic tragedy. I had a mixed response to “The Descendants” overall, but remember that scene when George Clooney shows up at his friends’ house, uninvited, interrupting a marital spat to demand answers about his wife’s infidelity? That was masterful. As Duncan’s mom, Pam, Toni Collette doesn’t get all that much screen time, but she makes every second pay off with a brilliant, understated performance as a once-burned divorced mom who’s hoping for the best but afraid of the worst. Her boyfriend, Trent (Carell), seems to be aiming toward marriage and stepfatherhood, but he’s also a guarded, angry person whose attempts to bond with Duncan are almost nakedly aggressive. Say this for Carell in his post-“Office” phase: He’s proven he’s a real actor, and he’s unafraid to take on unlikable characters who aren’t the center of the movie. 
 
 While Pam and Trent work on their possibly collapsing relationship and drink way too much with Kip (Rob Corddry) and the suspiciously friendly Joan (Amanda Peet, in full-on home-wrecker danger-girl mode), Allison Janney nearly steals the entire film as Betty, the boozy, horny, blue-eyeshadow lady next door. I almost wanted the whole movie to be about her! Even with Betty, Faxon and Rash resist easy caricature: She’s not so much the cartoonish slutty divorcee as a lonely single mom who’s adopted that role, in hopes of making an actual human connection. Anyway, Duncan has had quite enough of being the misfit adjunct to this group of dysfunctional adults who are acting way more like teenagers than he is. He has met Owen (Sam Rockwell), he of the aviator shades, early-‘90s Chevy convertible, blue windbreaker and ready quips. Owen, you see, is the manager of Water Wizz. 
 
 If someone hasn’t written a doctoral dissertation on theme parks and amusement parks as magical space in coming-of-age movies, they certainly should. “The Way, Way Back” certainly owes a debt to “Adventureland,” among others (although Jesse Eisenberg’s character in that movie is a recent college graduate, not a teenager). But the decaying, early-‘80s water park run by Owen is a near-perfect example. To Duncan, it’s a demi-paradise where he gets to be around adult role models who aren’t his parents. He isn’t quite able to see that it’s also a cement-lined Land of the Lotus Eaters, where one-time “cool guy” types like Owen lead a "Matrix"-like teen existence into their 30s and beyond without ever growing up. 
 
 In a career of playing raffish, rumpled guys who misjudge their own awesomeness, Rockwell may never have been better or funnier than he is here. Yes, Owen is pushing 40 and running a water park (and making ends meet in the off-season through mysterious means) and yes, he’s more interested in ogling hot girls and running his comedy patter on preteen boys than in actually working. There are worse things than that; even here the satire of Faxon and Rash’s screenplay is genial rather than cutting. Maybe an irresponsible Peter Pan class-clown type – who’d better hope the IRS never decides to notice him -- doesn’t make the ideal male role model. But Owen’s also a kind and generous person, who sees things in Duncan that Duncan can’t see in himself. As surrogate dads go, anyone would take him over a smoldering dickhead like Trent. 
 
 Anyway, this wouldn’t be a summer comedy if Duncan weren’t capable of changing Owen, almost as much as the other way around. Maya Rudolph gets a nifty supporting part as the long-suffering water-park lieutenant who’s been waiting for Owen to come to his senses, while AnnaSophia Robb plays the cute girl next door (literally), whom Duncan can barely muster the courage to talk to. (Faxon and Rash, both TV comedy veterans, give themselves funny sidekick roles at Water Wizz.) But “The Way, Way Back” really isn’t a teen romance, nor is it an adult sex farce. Those are flavoring ingredients in a movie that’s mostly about atmosphere, about moments of knowledge or connection that may not last but can shape a lifetime. It’s as welcome as the sea air, or a plunge in the Harpoon Lagoon on a sweltering afternoon. 
 
 “The Way, Way Back” opens this week in Boston, Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles, New York and San Francisco. It opens July 12 in Atlanta, Baltimore, Denver, Detroit, Houston, Minneapolis, Phoenix, Portland, Ore., San Diego, Seattle, Washington, D.C., and Austin, Texas, with wide national release to follow. ||||| To begin talking about the new indie film "The Way, Way Back," I want to go way, way back. 
 
 Praise for the movie's excellent cast, anchored by Sam Rockwell, Toni Collette, Steve Carell, Allison Janney and teenage rock Liam James, will come later. As good as the actors are, we must begin with the originality of the screenplay by Nat Faxon and Jim Rash. 
 
 The writers, who also co-direct and have small roles in the film, take a fairly straightforward story of coming of age in a time of divorce, with all the frictions that arise as kids find themselves dealing with mom and dad's new loves, but they make it feel fresh. 
 
 PHOTOS: Hollywood Backlot moments 
 
 And real. Authenticity gives the movie its witty, heartwarming, hopeful, sentimental, searing and relatable edge. It is merciless in probing the tender spots of times like these, and tough-guy sweet in patching up the wounds. A nifty balancing act by the first-time directors, who almost didn't get to make their film. 
 
 Way back in 2007, "The Way, Way Back" was on that year's Black List of best, unproduced scripts. The characteristics that put it there haven't been lost either. The dialogue remains too pure, too quirky, too conversational to have been tampered with by studio execs or nervous backers — so a shout-out to all of the folks who kept their notes to themselves. 
 
 The sting is there from the film's opening moments — one of those summer red-eye car rides to the beach. The only ones awake are Duncan (James) and Trent (Carell), the car salesman who hopes to marry Duncan's mom, Pam (Collette). Trent's frustrated eyes in the rearview mirror are all we see as he digs into the kid. 
 
 "Hey buddy," he taunts, "on a sliding scale of 1 to 10, where would you put yourself?" 
 
 When the 14-year-old finally ventures a "6," Trent's reaction reveals exactly what Duncan is up against. The crushed curl of Duncan's shoulders, the headphones that can't block out that voice, the hurt in his eyes capture how unprepared the boy is for Trent's treatment. James, whom you may know from the AMC hit drama "The Killing," is a standout. Carell should play bad guys more often. 
 
 The movie itself will roll between two worlds. Ground zero for conflict is Trent's beach house on the Boston shore, where a full assault is underway. Trent's out to squash any resistance to his plans to marry Pam. 
 
 PHOTOS: Billion-dollar movie club 
 
 Kid paradise, or something close, is the Water Wizz Water Park, one of those local spots that give small-town life its charm. Owen (Rockwell) runs the place in the way of a cool dude forever giving into his inner Peter Pan. 
 
 Rockwell, most acclaimed for his nearly silent tour de force a few years ago in "Moon," is a comic revelation as the wisecracking good guy who takes Duncan, and other strays, under his wing. In that punch-him-in-the-arm playground style of support, he tries to help the kid find himself and some self-esteem. A flunky job at Water Wizz will work wonders. 
 
 The core of the film rests in the contrast between Owen and Duncan's who-you-really-are heart-to-hearts and the tension played out on the home front with Trent. A meltdown over Candy Land is classic. 
 
 Even the small turns are not slighted. Comic Maya Rudolph's Caitlyn is a nice aside as the one who loves Owen but with reservations. Faxon and Rash are Water Wizz characters, one's eyeing bikini bods, the other escape. Owen and the gang soon represent the family Duncan feels the divorce cost him. 
 
 The difficult dynamics at Trent's become apparent as soon as the car parks at the beach house, aptly named Riptide. Pam, barely a year past divorce and desperate to make a new family with Trent work, comes alive as Collette walks that wire. All her insecurity is immediately embraced by Trent's outrageously naughty narcissist next-door neighbor, Betty. Janney is a total gas in the role, playing Betty in tight pants and with nonstop patter that, like shots of tequila, is better in small doses. 
 
 Betty's daughter Susanna (AnnaSophia Robb) is one of the cool kids who begins to redefine Duncan's life. Their awkward attempts at teasing is a lovely first flirt. Trent's daughter, Steph (Zoe Levin), like most of the girls, is there to be beautiful, sullen and dismissive. Rob Corddry and Amanda Peet play Kip and Joan, Trent's best friends and complicating factors. 
 
 Though Trent represents the torturer dealing out daily humiliations and Owen the savior, what really drives Duncan and the movie is his mother's indecision. What he sees so clearly, and what she refuses to admit, becomes the dividing line that the film keeps working toward. How Pam and Duncan eventually cross it comes as close as the movie ever gets to giving into a Hollywood moment. 
 
 I'm guessing the top-notch crew, including veteran cinematographer John Bailey, production designer Mark Ricker, and costume designers Ann Roth and Michelle Matland, took on the project more for love than money. Rob Simonsen's infectious original score, with Linda Cohen supervising, gives the movie that seductive summer-on-the-shore vibe that helps in riding out the storms. 
 
 Meanwhile Faxon and Rash are one of those unlikely Hollywood success stories. Met at the Groundlings in 1999, knocked around as actors, seemingly came out of nowhere to win an Oscar in 2012 for their first screenplay, adapting "The Descendants" with director Alexander Payne. They do deft work navigating between the humor and the pain of relationships, slipping in substance where you least expect it. In other words, don't be fooled by the sun-drenched beach where "The Way, Way Back" unfolds — not even the angst escapes the burn. 
 
 betsy.sharkey@latimes.com 
 
 ------------------------------------ 
 
 'The Way, Way Back' 
 
 MPAA rating: PG-13 for thematic elements, language, some sexual content and brief drug material 
 
 Running time: 1 hour, 43 minutes 
 
 Playing: At ArcLight Hollywood; Landmark Theatre, West Los Angeles ||||| As 1995 slouches into 1996, winter holds Montreal in an unrelenting grip. Adding to the chill are a series of unsolved rapes and murders occurring in the west-end neighbourhood of Notre-Dame-de-Grâce, all of which, it seems, have been perpetrated by the same man. That’s the set-up for Jacob Tierney’s third feature, using a self-penned screenplay adapted from Chrystine Brouillet’s novel Chère Voisine. The action revolves around three tenants of a run-down apartment: a cat-obsessed waitress (Emily Hampshire) working in a Chinese restaurant that never seems to have any customers, a wheelchair-bound widower (Scott Speedman) whose suite is filled with aquariums, and an emotionally needy, newly arrived elementary-school teacher (Jay Baruchel). Tierney, who scored big at TIFF last year with The Trotsky, garners great (and not a little creepy) turns from each of his leads to concoct a twisty tale that’s part-mystery, part-psychological thriller, part-comedy. His assured mise-en-scène echoes Polanski’s The Tenant and Boyle’s Shallow Grave. J.A. 
 
 Sept. 18, 12:45 p.m., AMC 6 
 
 Trigger 
 
 Bruce McDonald (Canada) 
 
 3 STARS 
 
 Sometimes an on-screen pairing just clicks. Though filled with recognizable faces – Sarah Polley, Don McKellar, Callum Keith Rennie, Caroline Gillis – Trigger leans almost entirely on its leading ladies, Molly Parker and the late Tracy Wright. They play reunited rocker chicks who have taken widely divergent paths in life and are wrangling demons born of a youth spent with sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll. Looking gaunt, Wright is splendid as Vic, the sharp and sarcastic half of the duo wasted by a taste for heroin. Parker is a charming and convincing foil as the cheerier Kat, now a well-paid TV executive still battling demons of her own. Trigger was rushed into production after Wright was diagnosed with cancer, but it doesn’t feel that way. Shot simply but compellingly, it feels like a polished and practised portrait of rekindled bonds. J.B. 
 
 Sept. 18, 12:45 p.m., Scotiabank 2 
 
 Dhobi Ghat (Mumbai Diaries) 
 
 Kiran Rao (India) 
 
 3 STARS 
 
 Move over Bollywood, because India is going indie. More precisely, it's showing some early signs of returning to the auteur-driven sensibilities of a director like Satyajit Ray. Here, making her feature debut, Kiran Rao takes us to teeming Mumbai in the monsoon season, then glides fluidly through the urban strata embodied in her three principal characters – an affluent Indian-American woman with photographic ambitions; a dour artist with a troubled marital past; and a hunky laundry boy (a dhobi) keen to climb out of the slums and into the movies. Perched on their different rungs, each is looking up or down the social ladder and doing the same thing but from different motives: peering, either curiously or enviously, into the lives of others. As they do, the film means to be the cinematic answer to Suketu Mehta's book, Maximum City – that is, it wants to draw a vibrant portrait of Mumbai in all its cruel beauty. Wants to, and almost succeeds. R.G. 
 
 Sept. 18, 12 p.m., Bell Lightbox 1 
 
 Stone 
 
 John Curran (USA) 
 
 3 STARS 
 
 Does sin come naturally to human beings? That, and how to look to be forgiven for it, is at the heart of Stone, especially where crimes that never reach a courtroom are concerned. Edward Norton steals the show as Gerald (Stone) Creeson, a convict of eight years looking for freedom through his parole officer, Jack Mabry (Robert De Niro). Norton is thoughtful and clever, but reptilian and rough. As Mabry, De Niro grapples ably with his own demons, entangled with the efforts of Lucetta Creeson (Milla Jovovich), a seductive manipulator trying to spring her husband. This film isn’t without flaws: For example, its religious overtones, framed by the devout rituals of Jack’s wife Madylyn and squawked out over Christian radio, don’t quite strike the right chord. But it’s worth the price of admission to see Norton and De Niro sparring across a prison-house desk. J.B.
– The coming-of-age indie flick The Way, Way Back has been compared to Little Miss Sunshine and Adventureland. Starring Steve Carell, Allison Janney, and Toni Collette, it's certainly got the acting chops to make it a hit—but is it a hit with critics? The consensus is yes, even though it doesn't offer viewers anything new. It's expected but charming, with a few laughs thrown in the mix, too. "The film is awash in safe choices, from indie-pop-accompanied montages to sitcom one-liners and black-and-white characters," Liam Lacey writes at the Globe and Mail. Though he compares the plot to that of Little Miss Sunshine, he argues The Way, Way Back is "way underdeveloped." Betsy Sharkey at the LA Times appears to have been watching a different film entirely. She says the flick has a "witty, heartwarming, hopeful, sentimental, searing, and relatable edge." Though she admits it's a "fairly straightforward story of coming of age in a time of divorce," the writers "make it feel fresh." It's a "minor pleasure," as opposed to a "major work," concedes Ty Burr at the Boston Globe. But isn't that nice during the summer? "This one goes down like a popsicle on a hot day," even as it moves along "genially if not always freshly." Sure, "there's nothing strikingly new or different about The Way, Way Back," writes Andrew O'Hehir on Salon. "It's classic summer counter-programming, a low-tech indie comedy driven by its strong cast and eccentric characters." But it's done well, and it stays away from "raunchy teen-movie cliché" territory. O'Hehir liked the film enough to make it Salon's "pick of the week."