The Adults (2023)

The Adults is special because it turns the small stuff—half-finished conversations, old jokes that suddenly sting, the way a room can make you feel 16 again—into a quietly gripping portrait of growing up without ever feeling like you’ve really grown out of anything. Dustin Guy Defa directs with a tender, eagle-eyed patience, letting the comedy come from awkward human truth and the drama land with the soft thud of recognition rather than big, showy speeches. Michael Cera gives one of his best, most finely shaded performances, and Hannah Gross and Sophia Lillis meet him with a sibling chemistry that feels lived-in, messy, and strangely comforting. It’s an intimate, language-heavy hangout with emotional teeth, and if you need high stakes or a neat catharsis it may not be your thing—but if you’ve ever gone home and felt your adult self wobble, it’s hard to shake.

The Adults is aiming for a small, truthful slice of family life: the kind where nothing “big” happens, but every pause and half-joke is loaded with history. Dustin Guy Defa keeps it intentionally muted and awkward, which can feel honest—or, if you’re waiting for a sharper comedy or a more dramatic payoff, frustratingly slight and a bit aimless. Michael Cera is well-cast as a guy hiding behind poker bravado, and the sibling dynamic has moments of real tenderness, but the film’s minimalist pacing means the tension often simmers rather than boils. If you like low-key indie character studies that live in discomfort, you’ll probably click with it; if you want clear plot momentum, catharsis, or consistent laughs, this may test your patience.