A KID FROM MARLBORO ROAD

Memories of the cusp of adolescence, delivered with a strong dose of Irish Catholic storytelling.

Filmmaker and actor Burns sketches out the events of a summer during which his fictional (perhaps!) narrator encounters change almost everywhere he looks. The 12-year-old son of Catholic parents who have moved from the city to Gibson, a Long Island suburb, he’s painfully aware of the transformation that his older brother, Tommy, underwent when he became a teenager. He fears becoming the same sort of asshole himself. Torn between his strong bond with his parents, particularly his melancholic mother—who notices and rues all signs of change in the family, the neighborhood, the world—and a wish for independence and time with friends, Burns’ young raconteur relates family history and personal obstacles, trying to make sense of it all. A grandfather’s funeral offers the narrator an opportunity for a trial run at storytelling but the effort is only moderately successful—it wasn’t a funny story but he’s allowed to stay at the grown-up post-wake festivities anyway. A last-minute effort at writing a poem for religion class has better results and garners approval at school as well as a prize (but also the opportunity to be ridiculed by classmates). A dawning awareness of his mother’s unhappiness and a subtle deterioration in his parents’ relationship provide the anxious narrator with lessons in what his father refers to as “another blessing of an Irish upbringing”: sweeping “all the shit we don’t want to talk about” under the rug. Burns succeeds in transcending that tradition while weaving together a series of bittersweet, personal, and wryly humorous episodes into a portrait of the titular kid who grew up on Marlboro Road and must have been the most perceptive person there.

An endearing and insightful coming-of-age story.