The film is carried by Duigan's fluid, poetic direction and a pair of winning performances from Mischa Barton as Devon, the girl, and Sam Rockwell as Trent, the lawn guy. Devon looks like exactly the kind of child actor I hate, all big-eyed and freckly, but she turns out to be wild at heart and very mature for her age ("I don't like kids," she sniffs), and not at all cutesy or precious. She suffers through her parents' bland homilies, straight out of those '50s educational shorts Mystery Science Theater loves to mock (her dad tells her sententiously, "A popular girl isn't bored... or boring") and instead of looking for friends her own age, pesters the reticent Trent into a friendship. He's understandably reluctant at first, knowing what his hanging out with a 10-year-old girl will look like, especially given that he is already the recipient of all the shit this snotty housing development can throw at him -- the asshole suburbanites humiliate him at every turn, so that it takes unprejudiced Devon to reveal the sensitive side of the sullen man the others see as trailer trash (this takes place in Kentuckiana, by the way -- love that place name!).
Trent is a sweet, sad, soulful, sexy young man who made me want to just climb into the screen to be with him. Quite early in the movie, he gets nekkid (for several minutes) and let me tell you, Greek statues have nothing on this guy. Good God! Worth the price of admission right there! I know what I'll be dreaming about for the next month!
Their scenes together are terrific; they've got a great chemistry that has nothing to do with romance. There's one exuberant scene where they dance to Bruce Springsteen on the top of Trent's truck -- it sounds corny, but it works -- and seeing Sam Rockwell dance and sway his hips and wiggle his butt...
Okay, review's over. I need to go take a cold shower.
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