Getting older, growing up…it sucks. Not even necessarily in an existential “every day is another day closer to the grave” kind of sucks either; the onset of responsibility, the loss of childhood to the maw of adulthood, watching yourself become AN ADULT is kind of a bummer. Especially when you end up becoming something your younger self would have absolutely abhorred, an objectively horrible version of yourself. Zach Weintraub’s Assets & Liabilities is an examination of the depressing reality that is realizing all of this.
Zach is at a bit of a crossroads. Approaching 40, he’s a loving father and a doting husband, he’s a landlord, and by all appearances he has the perfect suburban life. Sure, it’s a bit drab and kind of monotonous, but that’s life, right? That all changes one weekend while his wife and daughter are away on a trip. Zach breaks out the skateboard in an attempt to recapture some of that spark he’s lost in the slow trudge away from his prime. He encounters a younger skater, and for a moment it feels like he’s made a connection with some semblance of his past. However, the uncomfortable reality of Zach’s adulthood soon begins to intrude, and he is forced to confront who he has become.
This film might be the ideal version of an exercise in its subject matter. Written, directed, and starring Zach Weintraub, it’s shot in a minimalist, almost guerilla style that feels like the skate videos we see Zach watching at several points in the film (I’m like seventy percent certain Weintraub spliced actual footage of himself as a teenager in for some of the flashback scenes?). This also gives the latter half a creepy, voyeuristic feel as some of the more blatant horror elements creep in. The depiction of a man approaching middle aged as a father is raw and unlovely, unflinchingly depicting some of the grosser aspects of parenthood. Weintraub’s real-life wife and daughter starring in the film is an especially effective choice, bringing an element of believably that draws the audience even further in.
Weintraub’s creation of his avatar into the film is wholly successful, a former “cool guy” who is slow motion crashing into suburbanite conformist archetype of the uncool. He is a perfect simmering everyman, barely containing the frustration of fatherhood but never coming off as anything but absolutely dedicated to his family’s happiness, even if it absolutely comes at the cost of his own identity. Shots of him, in his underwear, against a wall of Rubbermaid containers in the garage, trying to get a cardboard box off the top shelf that contains, amongst other things, a pack of cigarettes and a costume literally called “carefree young person” are strikingly pathetic but absolutely effective. Him donning this costume to go out into the world is almost too on the nose and would come off as corny if it were not so absurd it fits the tone of the film. All that being said, somehow Weintraub makes these two halves of himself both come off as his real true self, two states that ought not to be able to co-exist at all but do just enough to create a juxtaposition that is almost as terrifying as the actual horror elements in the film. His two “to do” lists, one apparently written for his wife to see and the other…not written for his wife to see, perfectly sum up this internal war.
The film’s subtle but scathing critique of capitalism is a steady undercurrent throughout the film, showing us in brilliant detail the cost of taking part in a system that demands the sacrifice of happiness, be it yours or of others, simply to stay afloat. Zach is clearly exhausted by the mere participation in the landlord system, and not at all comfortable with it, but when the reality of his “success” coming at the cost of the well-being of others is shoved in his face, the film is smart enough to not let him off merely with a warning and shows us that choices and actions have consequences, and that bargaining with the devil always comes with a cost.
Nostalgia is arguably the strongest theme present in the film with Weintraub not necessarily critiquing it but showing that it has its limits. Zach’s yearning for a simpler time is natural; who doesn’t wish to be free of responsibility again? Instead, Weintraub realistically depicts nostalgia as something that ultimately is without substance, a saccharine substitute for truly living your life. Instead of actually living his life, Zach is merely attempting to recreate what made him happy before. But the harsh truth is that the person that was happy in the past isn’t the same person anymore. They cannot exist in the world he has created/embraced. One cannot be a good father while getting drunk and high and skating instead of providing for one’s family. It is an unyielding reality, and Weintraub points out that spending your time looking back prevents one from living a full and realized life.
Assets & Liabilities is a lean, filler free gaze into the crumbling world of a former cool kid approaching middle age leaning on an obsession with nostalgia as a method to fill the hole left inside himself, and the resulting cataclysm that is the reckoning of how you got to be where you are and realizing the costs of staying there. There’s a healthy dose of horror in this film as well, but it only serves as a sort of seasoning for the rest of the film’s blunt commentary on the cost of growing up and giving in.
