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Rating:
To a certain receptive swath of the indie film audience, Rocket Science will disguise itself as the latest offspring of Rushmore, with awkward school children existing in a state of perpetual absurdism, all while an insistent indie score lends them poignancy. In Rushmore, all of that worked. Rocket Science, on the other hand, is one of those movies where the lead character is always running -- not because he's a track star or because he's tardy, but because running is the only way to communicate the aimless romantic yearning in his bosom. Hal Hefner (Reece Thompson) is a shy, unassuming slip of a kid with an overwhelming stutter -- more on that in a minute -- who is duped into joining the debate team. (Lest you think Rocket Science is actually about physics). When things don't go his way, he's abruptly transformed into a guy who gets drunk and throws a cello through the living room window of the girl who duped him. If Rocket Science seems like it has tonal problems, you're onto something. It's supremely out of touch with its own identity, fancying itself a quirky comedy that's painfully real, but ultimately sweet and insightful. Rocket Science simply isn't these things, because a) the kid never gets any better at debate, leaving his stutter as both an obstacle to narrative momentum, and to the character's ability to achieve self-actualization, and b) the manipulative object of his affections (Anna Kendrick) may be unlikable, but his tendency to angrily dwell on her makes him even more so. The shame of it is, you really want to like Thompson's Hal, but writer-director Jeffrey Blitz mishandles him at a level that inspires outrage. Veteran of the delightful documentary Spellbound, Blitz proves he's a lot more astute at observing real children than writing fake ones. Derek Armstrong, All Movie Guide

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