Rambling, interesting, and fairly insightful, THE MYTH OF THE AMERICAN SLEEPOVER captures the restlessness and yearning that beset almost every teenager, especially on their last night of freedom. Simply put, the feel is just right -- a feat considering how many movies about this particular age group are tone-deaf. There's sexual energy, but it's all over the place. There's thrill-seeking, in an oblivious, sometimes dangerous way. There's betrayal that seems so dramatic but, with distance and perspective, actually isn't.
For all of its suggestiveness and drinking, there's a certain nostalgia to the movie. The teens don't text (nor sext); they walk to their sleepovers, not drive; they play Ouiji boards instead of video games. Facebook is nowhere to be seen (neither is the Internet), and the soundtrack doesn't overwhelm. For the most part, it works, and charmingly, too. Yet a disconnect does set in as we watch clearly modern adolescents and young adults take stabs at adulthood in a tech vacuum. (Surely, Rob could have found his dream girl via Google?) It gets distracting, but thankfully, not too often.