Can you remember how you spent your childhood summer? Were they poolside eating concession stand junk? Cycling everywhere you go? Is hand-to-hand combat your best friend? Falling in love with a girl from out of town? Something along these lines? Or maybe you just watched a movie like this. That kind of easy familiarity is what the teen comedy “Snack Shack” rests so comfortably on. Armed with a talented cast, writer-director Adam Rehmeier’s 1991 film happily meshes with the tradition of teen hedonism and expansive learning opportunities, settling into a generic but warm glow.
The film is led by Conor Cherry and Gabrielle LaBelle, actors in their early 20s, who stretch the rules of verité parody as two 14-year-old best friends who appear believably teenage with their tenuous relationship. The two play AJ and Moose, a pair of hustlers looking for the next hit after brewing “drinkable at home” beer. When friendly lifeguard Shane (Nick Robinson) notices that the poolside Snack Shack is up for rent for the summer, the boys see dollar signs.
Remeyer leans style towards the nostalgia factor naturally. (The production was filmed on location in his hometown of Nebraska City.) Rarely has a sweaty microwaved hot dog been depicted with such affection. The director uses plenty of other anachronisms to establish a sunny tone, including an outdated title card with production companies, colorful costumes and plenty of Generation X’s essential soundtrack (they even closed the rights to “Age of Consent”).
AJ and Moose aren’t the most cautious businessmen. The opening scene introduces two puffy cigars across state lines, escaping a school trip to bet on the tracks (and not even on horses, but on dogs). AJ’s parents (David Costabile and Gillian Vigman) disapprove of their son’s choice of friends, instead holding out hopes that he will pursue more socially acceptable entrepreneurial ventures. But after Moose pressures the even shyer AJ into emptying his bank account in exchange for an exorbitant offer on Snack Shack, the only way out of the problem is to go all-in on the action.
AJ and Moose’s bad behavior tends to snowball as their schemes do. The two enjoy a healthy array of vices: drinking, gambling, and even just swearing. “Snack Shack” is full of profanity, a decision that is neither endearing nor annoying, but instead numbs the uniform, age-appropriate tone. “Hit that shit!” one of the teens orders while another takes a delicious sip of their light beer. Rehmeier can’t summon much shock factor to play his characters’ exclamatory way of speaking for laughs, but there is a believable and somewhat sentimental limp. The boys encourage hot dogs by writing four-letter words with spices on them – a very proud novelty that sums up how they approach language.
There’s another disgusting profanity: “Shit Pig,” which is the awful name our neighbor Brooke (Mika Abdullah) calls AJ throughout the movie. As with so many teen features before it, this prickly fangirl isn’t exactly the most obvious character — a flaw highlighted even more by the annoying flutter score that creeps in whenever she shares a scene with AJ. But Abdullah and Sheree have a winning chemistry, and the actress offers some subtle indicators that Brooke’s cynical detachment masks a more private sadness. “Snack Shack” functions largely as a slow series of shenanigans, but their budding teenage romance provides the backbone, as well as an opportunity for drama once Brooke catches Moose’s eye, predictably putting the boys’ friendship in jeopardy.
LaBelle also makes a strong impression. Having already been hired by Steven Spielberg to star in the director’s soft-spoken self-portrait in The Fabelmans, the 21-year-old actor proves his mettle again here, playing it up as a fake so you can get a job. Make her the alpha, whose enthusiastic behavior clearly hides some emotional shortcomings. The cast shows talent across the board, further tested by the tonal carpet work of the final act that sees the characters facing matters more serious than crushes and candy bars.
Reimer proved less versatile in this transition. The director has a winning sense for comedic discovery, and welcomes unexpected ways to extend awkward interactions — such as when AJ appears to accidentally fall off his bike while rushing away from Brooke — while also knowing when to throw a button on scenes when a character is experiencing deep embarrassment. . Like its teen heroes, Snack Shack packs a diminutive but engaging character that works among the used parts. But once the story has nowhere to go but a tear-jerking conclusion, its world seems a little thin.