laura’s review published on Letterboxd:
it's rare to see someone able to articulate the feeling of a particular period of their life with so much clarity, so closely following when they actually lived it. i feel like i'm still processing things that happened to me 10 years ago, still reckoning with who i was, as i get even further away from that person. i think it's why you see tons of coming of age films about high school or college made by people in their thirties & forties, and why they always feel slightly amiss — the memories are clouded & coming from a different version of those people.
cooper raiff writes about his experience as a college freshman with so much sincerity, because it's as he still hasn't shed that person. he can still hold those moments of uncertainty in his hand, and is wrapped in the love that he was able to find. the admiration for these characters and what they provided is palpable. like each person is a rock that helped weigh him down when he was floating.
it's what feels most truthful to me about shithouse; how as a person that has the natural instinct to isolate, you always sort of look at everyone else with this glow. you feed off of their energy, and fall a little bit in love with every person that's able to adapt and still stand out. you want to be around them and want to convince both yourself & them that you're worthy of their attention.
it's hard to plant yourself in a place you go to knowing you'll only be there temporarily. you start to look at where you came from and see so much stability and familiar affection. but cooper's film reminded me that in each place you find yourself, others will find you too.