"Thelma"

 ☆☆☆☆ 

Pay attention in the opening scenes of Thelma, and see if you can spot the scam. You'll know it once it happens. You may even recognize it while it's happening. But the setup, the way the scammers hook 93-year-old Thelma Post into sending them $10,000 in cash, is convincing.

How do "old people" not realize they're being scammed? The same way you might fall for the big lie while you're watching Thelma. And that's sort of the point: Yes, Thelma is old, yes she spouts funny malapropisms, and no, she doesn't entirely understand how a computer works.

Do you?

The phone call Thelma gets sets her off on a grand adventure. It's tempting to call it a minor adventure, but anyone who lives in L.A. will know that Thelma covers a lot of ground in her quest to get that money back from the bad guys who conned her into giving it to them.

Played by 94-year-old June Squibb, Thelma is the widowed grandmother to Danny (Fred Hechinger), a Gen Z slacker who makes Gen X slackers look like overachievers by comparison. He's the one who unwittingly gets the action of Thelma rolling, and though he doesn't have a clue how life works, he's a doting grandson who prefers her to his parents—including Thelma's hyper-attentive daughter (Parker Posey)—and will do anything he can to help her.

Except, here's the kicker, the real crux of Thelma: She doesn't want his help. She doesn't want anyone's help. And she's not just stubborn. She knows she's old, but after such a long life, doesn't she get to live what's left on her own terms? This struggle for independence is what drives Thelma and gives it deeper meaning than a simple granny-with-a-gun tale.

In addition to Danny, her friend Ben, played by the late Richard Roundtree in his final role, wants to help Thelma. She only wants his electric scooter. But pretty soon they're gallivanting around the San Fernando Valley together, doing their best to stay one step ahead of her family.

It's a delightfully silly and thoroughly absorbing romp, one that recalls the more character-driven goofy comedies of the 1970s and early 1980s like 9 to 5 and Melvin and Howard, all held together by Oscar-nominated June Squibb, now in her third decade of a late-in-life career (her first on-screen role came when she was 56, her first movie role when she was 61). She's droll and straightforward and no-nonsense, a real character in the best sense, a character who feels complete and complicated.

And she is. That's the best part about Thelma. Sure, the jazzy score that could have come from a 1970s caper is fun, and all the performances—especially Hechinger—are top-notch. But it's Thelma's humanity that drives this film, even through it's more preposterous action-driven sections. Toward the end of the movie comes a gentle, human-scaled little scene that takes place on a park bench as Thelma talks to her grandson. Their exchange does something entirely unexpected in a film that has, by and large, lived up to our expectations to that point—it knocks the wind out of you. When I saw Thelma, the packed theater fell completely silent except for some uncontrollable crying jags.

Which isn't to say Thelma is sad or depressing or troubling. It's none of those things—well, maybe a couple of those things, though tangentially. The reason for the emotional response was ... no, on second thought, you'll need to see it yourself to find out. If you do, you'll discover that Thelma is big-hearted, effortlessly entertaining, and, in the best ways, as much a surprise as the woman herself. 

Viewed June 23, 2024 — AMC Burbank 16

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