A true generation gap can almost be defined by a complete lack of understanding and empathy between the youth and the adults in their lives — adults who are ostensibly in charge of watching over them, guiding them, and keeping them safe. We saw this illuminated in 1950s cinema. Consider 1953’s The Wild One where collective resentment by adults for motorcyclist youths creates enough pressure that it inadvertently leads to a bad-boy biker accidentally killing a man. In 1958’s The Blob, we see how the authority’s refusal to believe the story of even the most honest teenager results in the delayed action against an alien threat.

We often look back fondly at the 1950s as a time when culture was shifting, even though things remained intact within the home. Conversely, the 1980s saw a preponderance of divorce, broken homes, and latchkey children. By the ‘80s, the authority’s response to the younger generation wasn’t just dismissal but outright anger and frustration. It’s why many filmmakers just opted to make fun of these adults. But for a lot of real-world teenagers, they were afraid to speak up at all.

In River’s Edge, a girl is dead, and the kids are so used to maintaining a level of numbness and apathy just to get through life that they can’t seem to muster up an actual emotional response. Shallow relationships and the arbitrary ties to lifelong friends culminate in confusion and paralysis — confused how they were never able to know the victim — their friend — better before she died and paralyzed with trying to figure out why they don’t care more about her life ending. The answers aren’t clear to these characters and the implications for the audience are so incredibly subtle that we become capable of understanding their utter bemusement.

Keanu Reeves plays Matt, the eldest son of a pushover mother and a drunkard stepdad. He’s the only real adult in the lives of his two younger siblings, the delinquent 12-year-old Tim (Joshua John Miller), who hates his older brother despite dressing like him, and the young Kim (Tammy Smith), who sees Matt as a father more than anything else.

The adults in River’s Edge are almost entirely fed up with the kids. The exception is their teacher, Mr. Burkewaite (Jim Metzler), who imparts food for thought, encouraging the kids to think beyond themselves. He speaks on the Civil Rights Movement and how violence manifested itself through a social cause that became murky the deeper people got involved. It’s almost laughable that the students could ever fathom the idea of standing up for justice when they can hardly make sense of their own situation. In River’s Edge, violence is manifested for no reason and the cause isn’t murky, it’s nonexistent.

Where a lot of similar movies may stand up for the agency of these kids — perpetuating the idea that the youth is actually much more capable than we give them credit for — River’s Edge nearly convinces us of their actual limitations. And Mr. Burkewaite’s lessons are intended to fall on deaf ears so we can understand just how far gone these kids are.

Unlike most other coming-of-age films, there’s no talk about anything outside of this little universe in which the young characters live. None of these kids discuss college plans or work or how they’re someday going to leave this crummy town behind. News from the outside world never presents itself in TV or print. The entire generation is subdued into detachment. You might criticize a modern movie set in an earlier decade if it omitted current events and social justice issues going on at the time. However, River’s Edge was set in present-day 1986 and shows how its characters were so tired of topical subjects that they (and the filmmakers) avoided them completely.

Despite being pressured otherwise by his best friend Layne (Crispin Glover), Matt finally does take action. Spurred by some inexplicable moral conscience, even though he feels indifferent about the girl’s death, he eventually tells the police who murdered the teenage girl. Most of the kids already know who it is because the murderer, John (Daniel Roebuck), has been bragging about the crime for days now. Meanwhile, Layne desperately tries to cover for John. He sees his friend group as his main reason for living. While others continue to feel alive by keeping themselves as close to death as possible (e.g., taking drugs, shooting guns, drinking and driving).

While it’s clear that Matt has the most prudent moral compass, it’s Layne who might just be the most sane one here because he actually tries to utilize and preserve this human connection. As the others lack an emotional response to the murder of their friend, Layne cries deeply for his own fallen comrade. Glover’s charisma in the film isn’t remotely believable but he still brings an energy to a world that’s long been afflicted with ennui. And considering the actor’s inherent strangeness, there’s nobody better for the job.

Neal Jimenez loosely based his screenplay on the real-life murder of Marcy Renee Conrad in 1981. Like John in the film, the killer bragged about the crime and yet it went unreported for two days. River’s Edge never remotely glorifies the events that happen or attempts to capitalize on tragedy. Instead, it seems wholly dedicated to shining light on the virulent malaise infecting the aimless youth, and director Tim Hunter brings the story to life rather artfully. This isn’t your average cool-kid ’80s pop flick.

In River’s Edge, being a kid isn’t appealing like it was in other ‘80s classics, even if those kids were troubled, tormented, or just plain bad. Take, for example, the rascals in The Goonies or the misfits in John Hughes movies or the latchkey children in Explorers, Cloak & Dagger, and The Wizard. There’s a romanticism to being young in this era where pop culture was flourishing and the Internet Age still felt eons away. At the very least, there’s a wonder in these children’s eyes that makes us long for our own youth. Even in something as dour as Stand By Me (which, admittedly, is set in the ‘50s), the young are coded with a sense of hope and curiosity that their situation will improve, no matter what that situation is.

It may be tough to weather the nihilism in River’s Edge, especially when you could very much enjoy some of the films I’ve already mentioned, and more. Even something as horrific as A Nightmare on Elm Street is more fun than this. However, Tim Hunter’s grunge-era indie flick keeps us empathetic towards an oft-hidden corner of ‘80s adolescence — hopefully more empathetic than the characters that inhabited it.

Twizard Rating: 82