Kate Conklin (Gillian Jacobs) doesn’t know what she’s doing with her life. Logically, she should be happy about where she is – a graduate of a prestigious English programme at a major university, she has just published her first novel, a romantic drama set to the backdrop of an island in New England, entitled Seasons Passed. However, as proud as she is of the book (as well as the fact that she’s a published author), Kate isn’t very satisfied, mainly since she has recently been abandoned by her fiance, leaving her lonelier than ever before. To make matters worse, her book isn’t selling, and as a result, her publishers cancel her book tour, which only continues to erode Kate’s self-esteem. However, an almost prophetic call comes through not longer afterwards – she is contacted by David Kirkpatrick (Jemaine Clement), who was her English professor nearly fifteen years ago, and the person she cites as being most pivotal to her becoming a writer. He invites her back to her alma mater to take part in a series of events, including a live reading of her book, and a variety of meetings with the students who essentially idolize her, as she proves that someone can succeed if they truly put their mind to it and make the effort. Being back in her college town brings back many memories and allows Kate to feel young again, in part due to her growing friendship with a group of students who stay in her old residence, among them the sensitive and thoughtful Hugo (Josh Wiggins), who is instantly captivated by their new visitor, finding something very valuable in her experience, which she discovers is quite a mutual feeling. Over the course of a few days, Kate and her new, younger friends get to know each other and find out that they’re not that different after all, and that they may be divided by a generation, but there’s always a chance to be young once again.

There are numerous films that tackle the subject of someone later in their life returning to high school or college for whatever reason, normally taking the form of an outrageous comedy. One of the most recent examples of this sub-genre is Ben Falcone’s ill-conceived Life of the Party, which was designed almost entirely as a vehicle for his wife Melissa McCarthy. However, one of her co-stars in that film, Gillian Jacobs, recently went on tread similar territory with I Used to Go Here, a film that has a slightly similar premise, but is better in perhaps every conceivable way. Kris Rey is a fascinating voice in contemporary independent cinema, and while it is easy to dismiss this film as slight or unimportant, there’s no denying that she has crafted one of the year’s most lovely surprises – a charming and insightful film that balances exuberant comedy with heartfelt drama, all of which play a pivotal role in constructing this utterly delightful film. I Used to Go Here is not all that serious, and it may have some tonal imbalances throughout, but taken for what it is, it’s difficult to see this as anything other than a wonderfully sweet piece of independent comedy that doesn’t take itself too seriously, while still marching through some complex themes, which it does with elegance and good-natured humour, never going too far, nor being mean-spirited or excessive. The epitome of an unexpected gem, Rey’s hilarious and irreverent comedy is truly incredible, and deserves a much wider audience, since its premise may be familiar, but the heart it brings to it, and the way it traverses some strangely deep themes is quite remarkable, and more than warrants our attention from the outset. In short, I Used to Go Here is well-worth seeking out for a number of reasons.

Perhaps the most significant reason to seek this film out is contained within the director’s approach to a familiar set of ideas. Rey, whose work has often straddled the boundary between comedy and drama, crafts an unexpectedly moving comic odyssey here that may appear derivative at first – the idea of a failed author (or rather, an unsuccessful one that is readily anticipating complete failure) returning to her roots and finding the good old days were far more palatable than whatever she’s going through now is not in any way revolutionary. Rather, the director uses this common premise and develops it into a thoroughly affecting piece of storytelling, one that is built on the idea of nostalgia and our persistent need to yearn for the past, and weaves it into a plot that always carries so much potential, but isn’t always successful – the realization that it took a film as unassuming and obscure as this for these ideas to fully manifest is bewildering, but only further proof that I Used to Go Here is a very promising step forward for these kinds of stories. At first, the film doesn’t say much – the entire first act consists of the main character working her way through her old college, interacting with people, and consistently muttering sentences that doubtlessly begin with the phrase “I used to…” – ultimately, this is a film about one’s relationship with the past and using it as a means to recapture a present that you’ve lost sight of, and are desperately hoping to find again – and ultimately, the realization is that the past isn’t always as positive as we believe, and the wounds we accrue back then should be celebrated as we move forward. Remarkably, Rey traverses the boundaries of comedy in a way that prevents I Used to Go Here from becoming either too outrageous, or too overly-sentimental – the emotions are all authentic, and through her incredible writing, Rey is able to make some profound statements without losing the spark of authenticity that is really the most effective part of the film as a whole. It takes a special kind of filmmaker to create a piece that can say something without preaching, and this film accomplishes that in quite a remarkable way.

However, despite working through some quite serious subject matter, which is more insightful than it is grave (with themes such as ageing, millennial mediocrity and success in a hostile world being the subject of most of the film), I Used to Go Here is quite a charming comedy, and a large portion of this comes on behalf of the cast. Gillian Jacobs is an actress who occupies a strange place in the culture – she’s incredibly funny, but also does well with more dramatic material, as shown in a variety of films and television shows that make use of her full range of talents. However, she’s yet to break out in a way that seems worthy of her skills, usually being relegated to supporting roles in larger films, or taking on lead parts in more obscure projects that don’t receive widespread attention. I Used to Go Here could easily default into the latter category, but there’s no doubt it deserves a much wider degree of recognition. Jacobs is naturally the main reason for the film actually managing to realize its full potential – she’s incredibly funny, but her performance is undercut with a kind of melancholy that makes it compelling. Kate is a woman who is aimlessly wandering through life, and is desperately hoping to find some direction – and while she never thought she’d find it in the untidy halls of her old college residence, she is happy to be given some help in realizing her own potential. Jacobs is terrific, but she’s bolstered by a wonderful supporting cast too – Jemaine Clement is a lot of fun as the ageing professor coming to terms with the fact that he’s no longer the wunderkind renegade of two decades ago, but now a middle-aged representation of the establishment, a position he is trying to move away from, to no avail. Amongst the younger cast, Josh Wiggins is terrific as the intelligent Hugo, who seems to be the only person to understand Kate, and Forrest Goodluck, Khloe Janel and Brandon Daley are all scene-stealers. The entire ensemble of I Used to Go Here is fantastic, and are a major reason for bringing out both the hilarious comedy and tender drama inherent to the film.

I Used to Go Here is a fantastic film, and I implore everyone to seek this film out. It may not appear to be much on the surface, but for those who venture into the world Rey has created will be greatly rewarded, since it has a cumulative power that really comes as a surprise and leaves the viewer with a kind of warmth that none of us might have expected. Independent cinema is often used as shorthand for offbeat stories and audacious premises, but it also allows smaller films that may not get the chance to manifest in more mainstream circles the chance to be made, with this one in particular being a great reminder of how worthwhile a story well-told can be. Simple, heartfelt and never excessive, I Used to Go Here is a truly exceptional piece of filmmaking. Kris Rey does wonderfully in establishing herself as a fascinating voice in alternative cinema, and while this may not be her first film, this is her best chance to break out and enter into the popular conversation as someone who can craft a fascinating story, and also execute it in a way that feels fresh and exciting. She extracts some terrific performances from a great cast, all of which are entirely attuned to the specifications of the story, and ultimately do exceptionally well in realizing Rey’s ideas in a way that is entirely genuine. Oscillating between broad humour and affecting drama, I Used to Go Here is a very special film, and well worth seeking out for those who want something that may not be revolutionary, but is rather well-made, heartfelt and meaningful, which is sometimes exactly what one is looking for.