The film feels like a missed opportunity to interrogate society’s fervent need to make pariahs out of people for their youthful mistakes.
The film’s Buñuelian potential for harpooning the bourgeoisie is quickly dashed in favor of mumblecore antics.
Man Up’s quick-paced, quippy dialogue aims for screwball sass and sizzle but doesn’t quite hit the mark.
It’s knitted together by its sense of place and lived-in performances, yet unraveled by anemic false melodrama and overbearing music.