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Bro-Centric Rom-Com All Relative Calls for a Strenuous Suspension of Disbelief

The Manhattan of writer-director J.C. Khoury’s bro-centric romantic comedy All Relative is one where bored housewives spit wine into the mouths of their playboys as a seduction tactic, where twentysomethings wait a month and a parental meeting before having sex, and where iPhones exist but no one uses them to post photos of their significant others on Facebook or Instagram.

As the title hints, Harry (Jonathan Sadowski), a Columbia graduate student, is in for a sexual romp strongly reminiscent of Benjamin Braddock’s in The Graduate. He recovers from a turn as the cuckolded fiancé by becoming “the other man.” But, as his best friend advises him in the opening monologue, Harry just needs to think of romance as the French do — a journey, not a destination.

But unlike its predecessor in the grad-student-fucks-MILF-but-ultimately-finds-age-appropriate-love genre, All Relative requires a strenuous suspension of disbelief. As Harry struggles through this surreality toward love, his mother-daughter love triangle yields few laughs and instead delivers disappointing moments, like Harry pausing a beat to generate the perfect comeback, then sneering, “Whatever.”

He’s surrounded by cardboard women, although Connie Nielsen does her best to prop up her seductress character, Maren, against dismissive writing from Khoury. Maren vacillates between a cool, non-controlling hookup and an aging mother who can’t resist meddling. She’s the butt of all jokes, and ultimately succumbs quietly to her unfulfilled sex life. But, in the world of All Relative, that’s OK — Harry got to bone a MILF and date her daughter, and the fantasy is all that matters.

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‘Rumor Has It’

Rumor had it this was gonna be a stinker, and it is. The premise itself, which has been criticized for its weirdly incestuous overtones, isn’t even the problem. In fact, it could’ve been quite funny in the right hands: A young woman discovers a buried secret that her mom and grandmother were the women whose roundelay with the same young man inspired The Graduate, then encounters the graying real-life Benjamin Braddock herself, whereupon moral mayhem again ensues. But just as with the dismal Alex & Emma, Rob Reiner is tapped out when it comes to seducing us.

Jennifer Aniston is Sarah, a converted New York liberal (her antipathy toward tennis signals leftward leanings) returning to conservative Pasadena for her sister’s wedding, who confides in her marriage-minded boyfriend, Jeff (the great Mark Ruffalo, thankless everydude extraordinaire), that she wonders whether she’s really her father’s child. Her reasoning: They have different driving styles (her fast, him slow), don’t agree on politics, and don’t look the same (it’s true, the guy totally looks like an actor hired to play her dad). Since our wily screenwriters have conveniently killed off Sarah’s mom (the Katharine Ross antecedent), there’s nobody to clear things up when her boozy grandma (Shirley MacLaine) spills the Graduate beans and Sarah sets out in search of her real paternity.

Instead of giving us an aging doofus Braddock, Reiner invests in plastics. Our Braddock alter ego is now a computer mogul whose dullness is mitigated by the fact that he chills with Bill Clinton, flies a plane, and happens to be dateless for a gala ball the night after he first beds Sarah. Oh wait, sorry. He’s not her dad, OK? He’s sterile, as we learn—and then must question in a renewed rush of incest-panic before relearning. So that’s settled, and it’s off to wine country. Alas, this fairy-tale affair, which has now united three generations of women and one rich stiff, is short-lived. After a heart-to-heart with her real dad, Sarah resigns to marry reliable Jeff. Maybe it’s the terrible lighting, but Friend-out-of-water Aniston spends most of this flick looking like she needs Dustin Hoffman to bang on the glass and get her out of this mess.

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The New Graduate

Directionless and confused, Benjamin Braddock returned home from college lacking any motivation to get a job, preferring instead to float aimlessly in his parents’ swimming pool. Indeed, Benjamin was also mentally adrift, unsure of his future and of himself, and ultimately vulnerable to Mrs. Robinson’s advances. The movie posters for The Graduate say it all: “This is Benjamin. He’s a little worried about his future.”

While young Benjamin’s romantic entanglements were unique, his post-college confusion is familiar to a new generation of graduates across the country.

This kind of emotional crisis among twentysomethings—the sense of desolation and inadequacy, coupled with a fear of failure—was finally recognized as a common phenomenon in 2001 with the publication of Quarterlife Crisis: The Unique Challenges of Life in Your Twenties, a book co-authored by Alexandra Robbins and Abby Wilner.

Wilner said she wrote the book “to help get me through my own crisis by validating my feelings to other people.”

Since Benjamin Braddock floated in his pool in 1967, the post-graduation crisis has “become prolonged and more significant,” according to Wilner; recent graduates now face a faltering job market, greater student loans and more debt than ever before. (See Brendan I. Koerner’s “The Ambition Tax.”)

Graduates must also adjust to the startling reality of independence: keeping a budget, doing their taxes, and finding health insurance.

Following the success of the book, which became a New York Times bestseller, Wilner created a website as an online support group. This year, Wilner partnered with Catherine Stocker to found NARG, the National Association of Recent Grads.

“Our vision for NARG is that we want to create an organization that will be the AARP of twentysomethings,” Stocker said.

Stocker initially became involved with quarterlifecrisis.com to help Wilner “come up with some ideas about how to respond to the thousands and thousands of twentysomethings that were coming to the website community for help,” Stocker said. “I was so drawn to Abby’s vision and I thought that this was such an incredible movement and there was such an incredible need out there, that we partnered up to start NARG.”

Although quarterlifecrisis.com will still provide a community for twentysomethings, NARG will be “the overarching organization,” Stocker said. NARG plans to offer information on health care, job hunting, finances, and social networking. In addition, like the AARP, the group will use the power of numbers to negotiate discounted member rates for various products and services, from movie tickets to health insurance.

“When I graduated and had my own quarterlife crisis, I had nowhere to turn,” Wilner said. “There was no central place to search for help. And there’s really a need for that. A place that will not only offer discounts, but resources and information.”

For a kickoff event, NARG will hold a symposium at the Georgetown Conference Center in Washington, D.C., the weekend of August 20. The event will feature workshops to provide practical advice and tools for getting through one’s quarterlife crisis and will also serve as a forum where people from the website’s community can meet in person.

“You could come out of the best school and be the smartest person in your class and it doesn’t mean that you know how to prepare your tax returns. It doesn’t mean that you know the ins and outs of an HMO or a PPO,” Stocker said. “Unfortunately too many people in their twenties learn by trial and error. You sort of figure it out when you’re sitting there in the emergency room with a really bad illness and think, ‘Oh, what do I do now? I don’t have health insurance.'”

While a generation ago Benjamin Braddock recovered from his crisis in the arms of Mrs. Robinson’s daughter, Elaine. NARG offers recent grads resources, community, and even a little optimism—without all the awkwardness of having your former mistress as an in-law.