Snack Shack
The opening time for the Snack Shack is really something else. I can’t remember the last time a movie made me feel this way, but the first hour of Snack Shack had me grinning from ear to ear. Should’ve known it would be these two a coming of age dramedy and a summer hangout throwback that got me out of my rut. Man, after that night-swim scene alone, I was so high on it that I wondered if it could even break into my top five.
But nope! The second half loses sight of what makes the first half so great and really leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Which is too bad, because its peaks deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as Adventureland or American Graffiti or fuck it Dazed and Confused.
We open on best friends A.J. (Conor Sherry) and Moose (Gabriel LaBelle), who have snuck off an end of school field trip in 1991 to go to a greyhound race track. They’re both 14, smoking contraband cigarettes, deciding frenetically which horses to bet on. We get their dynamic right away. Moose is the instigator, ringleader, plan-maker, but A.J.’s got the instincts and self-awareness to keep them on track and make their schemes succeed. (There are enough references to how inseparable they are “we come as a package deal” etc that once or twice I worried we were about to get Tyler Durdened up. But no such luck.)
What follows for several scenes is like if you took one of those lethargic summer hangout movies from before but then gave it some speed It’s caffeinated and bouncy where those movies were woozy and slow moving (I’m thinking things like Everybody Wants Some, though set during school year, it at least had some similar vibes, and the shared exclamation point in the title!). A.J. and Moose are always looking for a way to make a quick buck, with each score unlocking their next scheme, then they’re off again. And they really do have some good ideas they brew beer in their basement that they sell at a summer college party; they sniff out opportunities where you wouldn’t expect them to be found. But all the while, they never forget to have fun talk shit, go to parties and wonder about what lies ahead for them in that way that teenagers in these movies can so beautifully articulate.
Finally, they land on their big one bidding to run the snack bar at the town pool for the summer. The place is a dump and they overpay by hundreds of dollars, but it’s gratifying (if rushed) to see them realize its potential and make it theirs. And it never gets old seeing them rake in cash from hungry swimmers who dramatically fan out dollar bills as they order their “fuck dogs” (a hot dog with the word “fuck” written across it in ketchup; “fuck” costs an additional $0.75).
(I’ve been comparing Snack Shack to The Way Way Back, but I think it’s more of a dudes being bros spin on Licorice Pizza both movies are about the core relationship of its duo as explored through entrepreneurial, in over their heads teens.)
The wrench in their best friendship and summer plans is a girl. Brooke (Mika Abdalla), who is staying with A.J.’s neighbor for the summer. Brooke, the effortlessly cool and free spirited girl that indie movies of this ilk traffic in, takes an inexplicable liking to the awkward A.J. I thought we were being set up for a “bros before hoes” thing, but it goes for a completely misguided love triangle that derails the movie.
This love triangle would be bad enough if it only caused some friction between the dynamic duo at the heart of the story, it outright alienates them. Because we’re seeing things through A.J.’s eyes, this means we get way less Moose screentime than we should in Snack Shack’s second half which is a major downgrade because Moose is easily the film’s best character, with LaBelle giving by far its best performance. LaBelle was quite good in Fabelmans, but he’s a downright revelation here, every line reading hysterical and snotty but endearing, it’s an early Best Supporting Actor candidate if you ask me.
It also assumes that Brooke is someone we’re much more interested in than we are (or invested in A.J. having her). No offense to Abdalla (or anyone involved), but she’s little more than a walking smolder flirt joke insult, a runner about her interest in photography doesn’t help matters. Her indecisiveness regarding boys makes her flighty. In movies like these, where friendship should be paramount or primary over romance, any romantic interest ought to add emotional texture and flavor to the proceedings around it not drive the plot itself.
More than just the love triangle, though, is an overall loss of focus on what had made the movie work in the opening stretch. The sense of wonder and high strung hunger of being 14 and wanting more out of life fizzles in favor of grumpy malaise; maybe that could’ve been a change of pace for a scene or two, but it drags on and on. And just when it seems like we’re righting course, Moose and A.J. grow even further apart for another fifteen minutes or so. This movie is somehow 115 minutes long, when it has the juice of something closer to 95.
The other key figure here is Shane (Nick Robinson noticeably older and thicker than his Love, Simon days), a family friend who takes A.J. under his wing as an older brother type and repeatedly (too often, I’d argue) saves him from trouble or pulls him aside for some slightly older young adult chilling and sooth saying or talk. Having returned from some service time in the Gulf War setting up for real one day down the line jokes about “the Middle East” Shane promises to take A.J. on a trip next summer, so A.J. starts socking his cash away accordingly.)
The film’s final 15 minutes provide an uncharacteristically downbeat ending to a film that arguably should have been more optimistic. But I didn’t hate the sad twist in the movie, it has that same quality as the pilot of The Wonder Years where loss is a stand in for growing up in a world that will only get darker and harder as we lose our innocence and enter adulthood.
Snack Shack is written and directed by Adam Carter Rehmeier (whose truly bizarre filmography includes his exploitation debut, The Bunny Game, with explicit sex). His script has its missteps but I love his direction. He uses different techniques to create different feelings for each scene some handheld close ups, some deep focus wide shots, some quick-cut montages, etc. while still making it feel like one flavorful dish. It’s less bleached and pastel than your average summer jam (despite the poster), with rich colors.
The production is nice too, but it’s generically nostalgic. I read it as a mix of ‘70s, ‘80s and ‘90s touchstones rather than sharply being set in 1991. (The fits are spot-on and remarkably turn-of-1990 though.) Still, overall Rehmeier creates an intoxicating texture that’s pleasingly tactile; just a really well-realized timbre for this kind of movie.
By halfway through Snack Shack I was absolutely certain I was watching my favorite movie of 2024. But it squanders that good will to end up merely “immensely charming but deeply flawed.” But even its valleys have peaks, there are still great moments or lines buried in weak stretches I’d eagerly watch again. On the other hand there are scenes I might fast forward through on rewatch, that’s Kryptonite for a summer hangout movie which needs you totally immersed in its vibe.
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