It would be more appropriate if this fashion-blog feel-film held onto its original title–The Wilderness of James–if only to more properly appropriate the “wilderness” in this film subjective to our broody young hero. Because in All the Wilderness, there’s nothing uncontrolled or unrestrained, or even all-explored in an every-corner-of-the-world kind of way as it would suggest, resulting in a weightless artsy exercise that only goes but once to the well and back again.

Alternating between a half forestial, half night life Portland dreamscape, Wilderness is all aesthetically-minded, and an example of a film that prides its visuals over substance–which might not deter an audience of happy Tumblr hipsters satisfied with their movies being all attraction and attitude but vastly undercooked.

James (Kodi Smit-McPhee) is this story’s deeply feeling hero, a quiet outsider who sketches dead insects and tells the kids around him when they are going to die. Smit-McPhee is never really captivating in his silent thoughtfulness, but its evident that his truer talents and charisma are hiding just under the surface of his shaggy hair and oversized sweaters. While James isn’t listening to the classical stylings of Chopin and caring for his hamster, he shuts himself off from the affections of his single mother (Virginia Madsen, always a delight) and sneaks out at night to escape from his days of therapy sessions (with book-ending cameos from Danny DeVito) and looming private school applications to steal a handle and get in innocent trouble with new-found friends, including hip donut-serving chick Val (Isabelle Fuhrman) who matches James in soulful-beyond-their-years experience of life.

Perhaps the film’s biggest problem stems from its perceived intention of wanting to outfit and dress up the shell to this story with a disregard of honoring any emotional truthfulness, which, not unlike like the self-torturing millennial mindset, is all surface-level feeling and philosophy from a distance.

It’s obvious that director Michael Johnson (and Cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra) knows how to shoot and where to place the camera, as watching Wilderness is, visually, continually and wonderfully pleasing. The film knows when and how to mount and track the camera early on, but its run-and-gun effort throughout the remainder of the movie only heightens the emptiness of a story about kids being cool and being kids, or maybe its the other way around. Netting out at a generous eight-five minutes, we are given a final bit of information as to James’ inner-hurt from what is finally revealed about his out-of-the-picture father that somewhat validates his moody existence, and it comes right in time before we’re able to dismiss his self-aggrandizing as plain old immaturity.

Killer music selections from Sonic Youth, Elliot Smith, Ty Segall, and Jónsi soundtrack this coming-of-age story to rile the senses even more. But perhaps the film’s biggest problem stems from its perceived intention of wanting to outfit and dress up the shell to this story with a disregard of honoring any emotional truthfulness, which, not unlike like the self-torturing millennial mindset, is all surface-level feeling and philosophy from a distance. In the end, as James weaves in and out of the towering and magisterial backwoods forest, it would help if the trees just came right out and said: you can’t be understood if you don’t put in place much of anything for people to understand.

All the Wilderness is in theaters and on VOD today.