Whatever the limitations of
"mumblecore" movies like Mutual Appreciation and Hannah Takes The Stairs, those films at least have an
insider's take on the comfortable ruts of post-graduate life. The indie comedy Flakes belongs on the same dusty shelf as Reality
Bites, the TV
series Love Monkey,
and that old Subaru commercial that compared an Impreza to punk rock. Aaron
Stanford plays an aspiring New Orleans rocker who never has time to work on his
music because he's too busy managing a hipster hangout that only serves retro
cereal. Zooey Deschanel plays Stanford's girlfriend, a boho painter who tries
to force Stanford to pick up his guitar again by bolstering the fortunes of the
corporate cereal bar across the street. Nearly every conversation Stanford
has—either with Deschanel or with their friends—is about how cool
he is for not selling out. Shaded just a little off-center, Flakes could be a satire of blinkered hipsterdom.
Instead, director Michael Lehmann
and screenwriters Chris Poche and Karey Kirkpatrick turn Flakes into a routine coming-of-age story,
in which Stanford has to realize what should be obvious to most: that any
commercial enterprise, whether it be making music or slinging bowls of milk and
grain, requires compromise. Which is a fine message, really. But did Stanford
have to be such an obviously unlikeable "rebel" type who boasts about getting
kicked out of a fancy restaurant and hangs up a "We reserve the right to refuse
service to assholes" sign at his restaurant? And did the movie's sole nod to
the tough times New Orleans has suffered lately have to be a prank Stanford
pulls, wherein he promises the homeless that his competitor will give them free
cereal? And did Deschanel really have to urge Stanford to grow up by
self-righteously harrumphing, "Cereal is not food, it's baby food"?
From the cocky speeches about the
history of General Mills' monster cereal line to the concluding rock 'n' roll
cover version of the Freakies jingle, Flakes tries to exploit what it perceives
to be the attitudes of young people today, while also giving them a stern
talking-to. Except that the characters Lehmann and company use as generational
mouthpieces bear no relation to any people who have ever existed, and they
barely work as parody. It's cool to see the old retro cereals on the restaurant
shelf, though. That, the movie gets right.