The truth is often more horrifying than fiction and although Short Term 12 isn’t based on a true story, it unearths a harsh reality of displaced youth, offset from the spotlight but boiling under the surface of society. Replicating the many broken homes in modern American families, director/writer Destin Cretton has sole custody of this project. Thankfully, he takes this responsibility seriously and delivers a masterclass in realism complimented with standout performances from Brie Larson, John Gallagher Jr., and Keith Stanfield.

His journey is perpendicular to newcomer Jayden (Kaitlyn Dever) who fights tooth and nail to be anywhere but here. While Jayden battles to leave and Marcus tries to work through the backlog of his own demons (with a powerful rap offering a raw view into the tattered loss of his youth), we realize just how short term the stay is here.

It may be limbo but it’s not without it’s guardian angel.Larson’s Grace is that angel. She’s a twentysomething running the ins-and-outs of the joint with the infinite patience of Mother Theresa and a thorny soul buried with secrets. Her heart is invested in the pocket of each and every tenant shuffling through the facility, entombing herself in their trauma, becoming a fiber of their tragedy. Grace puts her physical and emotional well being at the bottom of the totem pole and it’s in part because of this that she is so great at dealing with this gang of lost boys…and girls. But her constant need to play the savior hints at something troubled lingering within her – an undead memory that haunts her every breath.

Grace sustains a borderline manipulative relationship with co-worker and underling, Mason (John Gallagher Jr.) who is both her devoted lover and emotional rock. On the flip side, Grace is as hot and cold as the object of a Katy Perry song. Theirs is a shaky boat of love with Grace always maintaining the upper hand, unwilling to let Mason ascend her tower of secrets. Their physical and emotional relationship have obviously parallels to their work positioning with Grace always on top, the solitary king of the castle flanked by skyhigh stone walls.

But to paint Grace as a domineering presence is to misrepresent her. In showing the turbulent nature of this part of her life, Cretton aims to illuminate how broken she is. Her throttling affections are a window into her soul. A key to the realization that doesn’t see herself as even deserving of love. Cretton plants little psychological clues like these throughout the film, prompting our curiosity for what scars these characters are hiding and how, if at all possible, they can be undone. The joy in the film is not the end of the journey but the road to it as Cretton handles his character’s soft-shelled insecurities both gently and honestly instead of putting it in autopilot and expecting the subject to bungle down tear-road.

One of the great rewards of watching the film is seeing how the jigsaw pieces composing Larson and other characters fit together. Unlike lesser films that utilize baggage as a means of emotional manipulation, every reveal, every turn, every batting off or acceptance of affection feels earned. It’s a difficult journey but one that lends credence to the cast’s standup acting ability andCretton‘s talent to skirt past manipulation into a much more rewarding realm of genuineness.

What remains the most fascinating portion of the film is Cretton’s willingness to go someplace dark and stir around in the pot. In doing so, a motif that rises to the top is the idea that people reveal themselves through their art. Grace draws, Marcus raps, Jayden writes stories. In these moments of expression, their deepest sense of self shines through perhaps showing more than they ever could in mere conversation. In creation, there is the capacity to destroy, to move beyond. Almost Nietzschian in effect, creation and destruction are symbiotic here. Two faces of one Janus, two sides of the same coin.

Another, more difficult, thing to take away is Cretton’s interpretation of self-inflicted pain. Many wounded souls hurt themselves not to inflict pain but to make the pain go away. This cathartic nature of destruction helps mask the real trauma stirring within them. The only way to move beyond this cycle of abuse though seems to be in a form of acceptance – a self-imposed yard sale of everything nasty hidden away. And so it is in Short Term 12. Only when we show the darkest parts of ourselves are we able to start moving towards the light.

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