There are people who go campingand there are people who, under no circumstances, go there camping. The urge to escape into the woods can come from curiosity or challenge; the desire to see something new, find something peaceful, or experience something that deviates from the everyday norms of modern society. Meanwhile, stay far Woods can sometimes be a bad thing. This may come from a lack of curiosity or an unwillingness to be challenged. But it can also be rooted in self-awareness and assertiveness. Maybe those who don't want to sleep in the cold have slept in the cold before – when their eager-to-camp friends promised they'd remember the blankets. Maybe they've hiked the hills, crossed the rivers, and started the fires, gleaning enough from doing it before to know they don't need to do it again. Perhaps they are allergic to grass, dander, or some other natural element which then spoils their attempts to commune with nature.
Those who have good reasons for not wanting to venture outside are usually people who know themselves and each other well, so even non-campers should be able to relate to them. Penelope (Megan Stott), a 16-year-old girl who — in the YA series co-created by Mel Eslyn (who directs and presents) and Marc Duplass – abandons civilization to better understand who she is, what she wants, and where she should go in the future. Although we've heard similar stories countless times before, it usually involves an adult abandoning city life for an excursion through nature. A mother who lost her mother. A dad who lost his dad. An adult (parent or non-parent) who has been terminated. For them, it's a midlife crisis, so with Penelopecall it a pre-life crisis. She sees the path ahead of her and it doesn't seem right. Or, as she says in the pilot episode: “I I just don't feel good.
Now the young woman who once played Reese Witherspoon's daughter can follow in his footsteps off-piste with his own “Wild”. But the self-financed series that premiere at Sundance (and is streaming now on Netflix) is also slightly more than that, and our protagonist's youth becomes a key differentiator. “Penelope” is an unusually meditative and slow-moving drama, especially for streaming series and especially for a streaming series aimed at teenagers. After watching all eight episodes, I'm sure many incurious and stubborn viewers will settle for their usual complaint that “nothing happens.” But a) it's refreshing to see an independent film TV the series forges its own identity, rather than trying to copy the standard studio formula, and b) for those who have always dreamed of sleeping alone under the stars, fishing for their dinner or building their own home with sticks, “Penelope” not only delivers a heightened sense of wonder to these reveries, but it also invites audiences – young and old – to ask more questions, instead of just doing what we tell them.
And can you blame today's children for wanting a different future? Penelope never explicitly complains about the anxieties prevalent among modern adolescents, but the pressures of school and the distancing effects of constant connectivity are clear in her decision to set up camp herself, hidden in a park national. She's isolated in groups, like when we first see her dancing with her peers at a silent nightclub. Instead of taking selfies or scrolling through her phone, Penelope closes her eyes and sways to her own rhythm. When she opens them, a wolf is looking at her, just off the dance floor, ready to return to the forest all around them.
Penelope wants it too. The next morning, she gets up early and, careful not to wake the dozens of other sleeping campers, sets out for a solo nature hike. Her mother texts her to tell her they'll be leaving soon, but that only pushes her forward, further, deeper into the woods.
Then she runs. The final straw seems to be the threat of going home to take SAT prep classes. on a Sundaybut while Penelope's decision to leave at this particular moment may be impulsive, her decision to leave in general has been a long time in the making. “It’s not you,” she said in a voicemail to her mother. “I'm not running away. I'm running towards something. It's like someone's calling me. Later, after purchasing emergency camping supplies at a sporting goods store and riding a train like Charlie Chaplin's Little Tramp, she meets a like-minded boy named Sam (Austin Abrams). “I just don’t feel good,” Penelope says. “I feel like I have to take things off before I can put them back.”
Most of the series plays out as a literal interpretation of this analogy. One episode is devoted to Penelope making a fire and learning how to pitch a tent. Another watches her plan and build an entire campsite. Another puts her in survival mode, nursing her wounds and dealing with the unexpected. Eslyn's direction is not very meticulous or heavy on editing, but a happy medium of the two. You don't watch Penelope put each stick into place, but you see enough of the building process to appreciate how her miniature cabin came to be.
A selective approach to Penelope's lived experience also helps avoid some leaps of logic in later episodes, when her PG-rated adventure veers away from emotional development and toward a starker, darker reality. Frankly, this change is unwarranted and might push the eight-episode season too far for disengaged viewers, but it doesn't compromise the internal growth or poignant moments that came before.
Plus, even though “Penelope” is about Penelope, she's not the only teenager looking for another path to adulthood. Sam doesn't just strum his guitar at local coffee shops to meet girls. He prefers to host open mic nights for 10 people rather than creating stats on YouTube or Spotify. “I kind of did that kind of thing,” he says, “but even when I did it, I was still sitting in my room hoping people would listen to me. (With live music), there is a sharing that takes place. We are truly connected to each other. It's something tangible.
Later, she meets a group of Christian school friends who are also looking for something real. Peter (Rhenzy Feliz, also in HBO's 'The Penguin') said he and his two friends were “on the path” – graduating from high school, heading to college, guided by God – but had become uncomfortable with the way religion had been “co-opted » by harmful causes and people. Now they have left the church and dropped out of college. Like Penelope, Peter believes that “there has to be a better way.”
“Penelope” does not need additional characters or artificial action. It's most compelling when Stott, whose organic screen presence includes so many silent scenes, is immersed in nature. But each additional voice expands the series' curiosity beyond a single point of view, toward the generation it represents. A generation shaped by a pandemic. A generation that only knows life on (and via) the Internet. A generation that has many reasons to be afraid of what they will inherit as adults.
There are people who go camping and others who don't. But what “Penelope” is looking for, in nature, is less binary thinking. The answer doesn't always have to be one or the other. Sam doesn't need to make a living as a musician to appreciate the impact his music has on others. Peter is not obligated to follow Christ in the same way as his pastor. Penelope doesn't need to be like all the other kids, obsessed with their phones, their parties, their predetermined future. She wants to change her destiny. They want to change their destiny. They just start early, before half their lives are up.
Grade: B-
“Penelope” premieres Tuesday, September 24 on Netflix. All eight episodes will be broadcast at the same time.
