Growing up never looked as cool as it does in the new James Franco starrer, Palo Alto. Which is a large reason for why the film feels less of a relatable young teen drama and more of a fashion film of tragically beautiful youngsters smoking cigarettes and getting into trouble. Where recent coming-of-age indies like The Perks of Being a Wallflower and The Spectacular Now succeeded for committing themselves to getting into the minds of these tormented and confused teens, relying on stylistic choices only to further that world story, the job here feels a little less personal, and like its characters, a little too cool for school.

Adapted from the James Franco-penned novel of the same name, a collection of autobiographical short stories about the multihyphenate’s childhood growing up in the Californian back-town, this softly lit, pastel-hued film stretches out a full narrative following three rebellious high schoolers, as they mainly shuffle from one house party to the next. Lending the film her star power in the leading role is Emma Roberts, offering her moody shyness as April, the class virgin/school soccer player who draws the attention from both her close friend Teddy (Jack Kilmer, son of Val*) and her soccer coach, Mr. B (Franco) (a plot that may sound familiar from recent tabloids of Mr. Franco’s conversation with an underage Instagram user).

The job here feels a little less personal, and like its characters, a little too cool for school.

Accompanying April are her guy pals, Teddy and Fred (Nat Wolff), equally rebellious friends who drunk drive and plow down trees with a chainsaw. The vices and behaviors that the threesome share (a dynamic not unlike Wallflower, with two friends crushing on each other while the third, eccentric one, spins his wheels) speak to the reality of how these kids go about searching for and getting their kicks. So although an honest representation of their worlds, their unaffected and detached attitudes deflate whatever it is that the film is trying to say about kids and their partying.

Making her feature film debut is yet another Coppola, this time, Gia (niece of Sofia and granddaughter of Francis Ford, for those keeping score at home). And here, the familial relationship makes sense: the cinematography and all around mood begs itself to look something similar to The Virgin Suicides. While the director is able to infiltrate these moments of young love and secrecy and maintain a small-scale intimacy to the whole thing, in the end, there isn’t enough point of view for us to pull any statement from it. If the moral of the story is that young teens are non-impressed with the dullness and tragedy of life itself, then the tone poem movie gets it just right. Unfortunately, that non-impress extends itself into the audience, as we are left only  to spectate as our young heroes wander aimlessly throughout the film, lost and confused, with the overall movie following in similar fashion.

*This may be the most Epic way of introducing a person that I have yet typed.