By Wayne Niemi

Youth is wasted on the young.

Truer words were never spoken and actor and writer Stephen Fry sets out to prove that with his directorial debut of “Bright Young Things,” a story of angst, apathy and excess in pre-WWII England. Unfortunately, he chose a story that seems to purposely keep the audience at arms length by creating an emotional void in the lives of its characters.

Based on Evelyn Waugh’s novel Vile Bodies, Fry’s script combines elements of romance, farce, drama and comedy as it connives to illustrate the frenzy of a culture struggling against, and barreling toward the “modern” world.

Even in the midst of the chaos of the day, the characters are imbued with a damp isolating disaffection. It’s a world where money is made and lost on a whim and coincidence and chance rule the lives of a reckless young crowd as they teeter on the verge of self-destruction. And through the ups and downs of it all, they remain utterly disinterested. And so does the audience.

This isn’t a bad movie. In fact, in succeeds more times than not in its attempts at various genres, but they get mashed together in a way that makes the film feel hollow, like The Great Gatsby being read by a junior high school student shortly before lunch.

Set in London during the 1930s, the story centers on Adam (Stephen Campbell Moore), an aspiring writer who is desperately trying to wrangle together enough money to marry Nina (Emily Mortimer), an illusive debutant who is the “It” girl of the social scene. Together, they pal around with a group of utterly bored party-goers who drink absinthe and make painfully self-aware observations like, “The press is getting to be all together bothersome, except when they aren’t.”

Of course, the British newspapers can’t get enough of the bored bunch and labels them the “Bright Young Things,”—sort of a 1930s version of the club kids of the mid-1990s.

Through dumb luck and simple twists of fate, Adam comes into money, then loses it, only to find new fortunes elsewhere, while he plans, postpones, and re-plans his marriage to Nina.

After Adam’s friend Simon (James McAvoy) a tabloid gossip columnist who goes by the moniker “Mr. Chatterbox, commits suicide, he takes over as resident gossiper. However, his tell-all is a fabrication of an imaginary group of socialites. But this, too, is not to last. He soon is again penniless. Upon hitting bottom, Nina announces that she is going to marry the utterly smug and self-aggrandizing Ginger (David Tennant). Adam then goes off to fight the Nazi scourge, only to return in Britain’s darkest hour.

Director Stepehen Fry (Bright Young Things)
As the film bounces from genre to genre it generates a swirl of emotions that ultimately combat one another, leaving the audience numb and uncaring, much like the characters.

For example, when Simon delivers a teary-eyed and desperate plea to Adam to help him snare an invite to the party of the moment, it’s difficult to know if we are supposed to feel pity, embarrassment or sympathy. And later, when he plunges headfirst into a gas-lit stove, the emotions of the film neutralize one another so that the end result is as bland as an English breakfast.

The real casualties of the film are Moore and Mortimer, who both deliver strong performances. Moore, exudes a carefree everymanquality with the grace of a skilled stage actor, while Mortimer deftly plays Nina so that she is as illusive as a handful of water.

Given the strength of their performances here, it’s all but certain that they will both move on to projects that allow them to explore the depths of their emotions, instead of packing them away in neat English tea boxes.

It’s obvious that the filmmakers see parallels with the present day in this tale of youth-gone-wrong. But in the contemporary world of polarized politics and terrorism, the troubles of these characters seem almost quaint, as if this contingent of The Greatest Generation didn’t know how good they had it.
Bright Young Things is rated "R" and is now playing in select cities and wider on September 10.