Your weekly break-down of a popular movie or television episode to see what a screenwriter—or any writer, for that matter—can take away from what’s on screen: what worked, what didn’t, and how you can use what’s popular to craft better stories.

Big Time Adolescence is this week’s pick. A Cheech and Chong comedy with John Hughes’ heart, this charming, lo-fi indie movie just dropped on HULU, and Pete Davidson fans will rejoice in his first starring movie. Like the lovable characters Davidson plays on Saturday Night Live, Adolescence is at once familiar, funny and awkward. There’s plenty of lessons for writers to take away from this drug-drenched, coming-of-age story.

*WARNING: Spoilers Ahead!*

1. Theme: Everyone is at the mercy of the same thing.
   This isn’t a movie about drugs, or friendship. They’re just the backdrop against which writer-director Jason Orley sets his theme.  So, what is the theme of Big Time Adolescence? Growing up, of course. A theme is not a premise, or a plot, or a subject matter. It is a concept—what a work has to say about a particular subject or idea. I know, that’s heady stuff. A theme runs through multiple characters and even though it may play out in different ways, it always brings us back to the same thread at different stages in the film. First there’s Zeke (Davidson), who’s determined to not “grow up” and always hangs out with young people and avoids responsibility. On the flip side, Young Mo (played by Aiden Arthur) is desperate to lose his virginity, hang out with older kids, and be treated as an adult. Mo’s sister, Kate (Emily Arlook), comes right out and gives a speech about growing up—even as she’s cheating on her new, art-obsessed boyfriend with Zeke. Then there’s the father, Reuben (Jon Cryer), who is clinging to his son’s childhood, unwilling to let him grow up too fast.  The point is that all of these characters (and many more in the film) deal with the same concept: how they will (or won’t) grow up. And that’s theme in a nutshell. A universal idea that can be explored in many ways, and one you’ll actually want to explore many facets of the same concept to enrich your story richer and make it more nuanced.

2. The End First: Careful with the flash forward.
   When a film or television series shows you events in the future, then jumps backwards to an earlier point of time, you’ve got yourself a flash forward; or a scene out of sequence. It’s a common technique these days, and when used effectively, leaves the audience wondering, “how did the characters end up in this situation?”  But flash forwards are risky, and the trick often doesn’t pay off. In Big Time Adolescence, we open with our main character, Mo (Griffin Gluck), being casually led out of class in handcuffs. Then, the movie bounces back in time and explores how he became a drug dealer with his mentor and best friend, Zeke. Here’s the issue—we’ve already deduced that Mo’s drug empire will eventually result in his arrest. So, for nearly an hour of the film, we already know what’s going to happen.  One of the most fundamental reasons we read, watch and listen to a story is to find out what happens next. When you flash forward, you give that away. You’ll be tempted to use a flash forward to make your script or narrative have an exciting introduction—something to really grab the reader. Sure, it can accomplish that goal, but at the risk of making what follows less interesting. It’s a risky trade off. Audiences are smart. As a rule, don’t give them more clues than you need to.

3. Tone: More important than reality.
   Know your tone and use it to your advantage. Big Time Adolescence is a comedy. Therefore, the tone allows the movie to make light of serious situations—the ramifications of Mo and Zeke’s decisions aren’t ever fully explored, they are just sort of glazed over or left out. Events like losing your virginity to your best friend’s ex-girlfriend, getting expelled, selling drugs to children, grown men beating up their son’s friends, infidelity.  Did I mention this is a comedy? That’s the power of tone. Big Time Adolescence handles all of the above with a light and breezy suburban paintbrush. This lightness in tone is a smart storytelling choice, as Davidson’s charming “aw, shucks” demeanor really lends itself to the material. Remember, the tone of your story dictates how the narrative will handle serious topics, and the tone will guide how the audience feels about what they read on the page or see on the screen. Tone is an important tool. Don’t forget to use it.

4. No plot: No problem.
   This movie takes its time, like a meandering river. Avoiding a more traditional plot, Big Time Adolescence uses a “vignette” style of storytelling. Sometimes referred to as “slice of life” storytelling, these types of narratives show series of scenes and moments to give us character, theme and key moments that illuminate bigger ideas (in this case, growing up). Traditional plot is when each event or action is stacked or created from the one before.  While Big Time Adolescence does have a plot, it’s a secondary exercise to the theme that the filmmaker is exploring. The film’s plot arrives closer to the second half, when Mo’s drug “empire” is finally found out, and he realizes that it’s time to put away childish pursuits and grow up—something his best friend and mentor Zeke has never been able to do.

5. Narration: A crutch you usually don’t need.
   As a rule, don’t use narration unless you absolutely need to. During the flash forward, Mo narrates, “I know this seems bad. But, it’s not entirely my fault…” and then we smash cut to deadbeat Zeke, and we’re treated to several minutes of setup and exposition via Mo’s narration. Honestly, the rest of the film doesn’t lean on this crutch and allows the audience to draw their own conclusions. I disagree with this use of narration for two reasons. One, it is a tool that appears once in the film, never to appear again. Why? Things like flashbacks, voice over, fourth wall breaks, and the supernatural are tonally very specific, and when you use them, it really changes the vibe and style of your film. There’s an uneven quality about using devices like voiceover only once. But it can be done (Tarantino used it effectively in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood). However, the bigger reason that this lone use of narration doesn’t work in Big Time Adolescence is that it doesn’t tell us anything we couldn’t already be learning through the scenes themselves. As a rule, it’s always best to remember that audiences are smart and want to deduce things for themselves. If you were to edit out the flash forward and the narration that open this film, Big Time Adolescence would be more subtle, allowing us to come to understanding on our own terms.

FINAL TAKEAWAY: Just like growing up, this is a story of sex, drugs and drinking—and not much else. Even without a strong plot, the film manages to make up for it with great performances and tons of heart. I’ll drink to that.