It goes without saying that Mavis's plans don't work, that she is rejected and humilated, and finally left with the unshakable conviction (for she is not stupid) that her soul is rotten to the core, that she is a reprehensible, manipulative, borderline-sociopathic, alchoholic whore, that everyone despises her—or worse, pities her—and that she desperately needs to change, if she hopes ever to be happy again. The fact that we, the audience, know she richly deserves this misery, yet at the same time find ourselves feeling sorry for her, is a testament to the even-handed (one may say "fair and balanced") tone maintained throughout the film. Indeed, screenwriter Cody and and director Reitman never pander to the audience or attempt to disingenuously blunt the thorny edges of their wretched protagonist's personality, yet like Oswalt's cranky but good-hearted cripple, we find her appealing just the same, because her obvious vulnerability grabs our hearts, even as we witness her numerous heartless escapades.
Or maybe it's because she's just so damn pretty. Really, would we men give an ugly girl so many chances to shape up and change her evil ways? But then nature, and our hormones, have us in a bind. As Matt tells Mavis in a moment of unvarnished honesty, "Guys like me are born to love women like you, no matter what."
To its credit, Young Adult resists the simple "feelgood" ending. Mavis's monstrous ego keeps reasserting itself, and as the credits roll, we see that she still would rather live in her narcissistic delusions than become a better person. Her final redemption, thus, remains in some doubt. We hope, for her sake and for the sake of other people in her life, that Mavis will finally become "better than this," as one character implores, but in the end that somewhat forlorn hope is all that we have.
We have seen many male characters of Mavis's stripe in recent years, but Young Adult may be a sign that popular culture is finally moving into a decidedly post-feminist age, wherein women's mistakes and misdeeds aren't merely seen as the unfortunate by-products of their suffering under a supposed "patriarchy," but rather as stemming from men's and women's shared flawed nature as all-too human beasts. Alt-rightists of all stripes should welcome this trend, as it showcases yet another significant chink in the armor of the once iron-clad PC-orthodoxy of the postmodern Zeitgeist. But all filmgoers of any ideology who appreciate the portrayal of uncompromising truths about the human condition should love Young Adult, a somtimes hilarous, often painful, but ultimately lovely cinematic gem.
