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Thirteen

Holly Hunter and Evan Rachel Wood in "Thirteen."

FILM FACTS

Starring: Holly Hunter and Evan Rachel Wood
Director: Catherine Hardwicke
Rating: R for drug use, self destructive violence, language and sexuality
Genre: Drama

Discuss this film | Official movie site

See showtimes (R) 95 minutes

Grade: B

Verdict: This piercingly strong movie puts the "hell" in the Hello Kitty generation.

By ELEANOR RINGEL GILLESPIE
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

When "Thirteen" won raves at film festivals (and the best director prize at Sundance), anyone who hadn't seen it had a right to be skeptical.

The movie could've been like the grossly exploitative, borderline soft-core porn "Kids" and "Fat Girl." Thankfully, it's nothing like those drooling fictions.

Directed by first-timer Catherine Hardwicke, "Thirteen" is intelligent, thought-provoking, non-exploitative and beautifully acted by Holly Hunter, Evan Rachel Wood and Nikki Reed. Reed, whose own baby-tart adventures provided many of the incidents in the film, co-wrote the script with Hardwicke.

As coltishly pretty Tracy (Wood) enters 7th grade, she's wearing pigtails and has stuffed animals all over her bed. Within weeks, under the expert tutelage of junior-high hottie Evie (Reed), she's traded her teddy bear for a tongue ring and her sensible jeans for hip-huggers that would make Britney blush.

Her mom, Mel (Hunter) -- divorced and working hard for her AA chips -- barely notices at first. She's too busy trying to make ends meet as an at-home hair stylist and to make things work out with her lover (Jeremy Sisto from "Six Feet Under"), a recovering coke addict.

By the time she does notice, Mel has no idea how to handle Tracy as she defiantly channels her inner Lolita. Heck, Mel didn't even know Tracy had an inner Lolita. Further, she's insecure enough to fall for both Evie's flattery and her made-up sob stories. Evie claims to have had an Uncle Ralph who did "things" to her and once pushed her into a fire.

The reality, of course, is that Evie is looking for a more reliable meal ticket than her drug-addled cousin (Deborah Kara Unger), a self-described "model/actress/bartender" who's supposed to be the girl's guardian.

"Thirteen" is Hardwicke's first outing as a director, but she's well-known in Hollywood as an A-list production designer, whose credits include "Three Kings" and "Vanilla Sky." She can be too indulgent of her cinematographer, Elliot Davis, who favors circling shots that induce "Blair Witch" vertigo. And the message is as obviously spelled out as that on any given Afterschool Special.

But Hardwicke is very good with her actors; you sense she's given them space to breathe. Plus, her eye for the telling detail is exceptional. Tracy's ecstasy when Evie finally deigns to talk to her is achingly on-target. It's the best day of her entire life, she tells her mom, and anyone who ever longed for the cool kid to talk to her (or him) will empathize. More chillingly, the girls' shrill giggles when they talk about boys have the uneasy timbre of fleeting power, the sort that babealicious teens hold so boldly and so briefly.

Neophyte Reed's performance is as self-assured as Evie on the prowl along Melrose Drive. She exudes that come-hither "whatever" air that makes nymphets like Evie so dangerous -- and unwittingly vulnerable.

Wood is even better, whether she's glancing at Evie for behavioral hints during a heavy-duty make-out session or screaming like a banshee at her mom. The dehumanizing effect of her borrowed bravura is heartbreaking.

Finally, there's Hunter whose work is so strong the movie could just as easily be about Mel instead of Tracy. She's part of a generation of '60s-raised, now middle-aged, parents who only know how to be their children's pals. Neither an idiot nor a shrew, Mel is the sort of recognizably flawed person we rarely see in the movies. If "Thirteen" were a bigger film, Hunter would be an Oscar contender.

Parental note: The R rating means business; if you're looking for an escapist mother-daughter flick, stick to "Freaky Friday."