For a smart kid, he sure ain’t smart. Perhaps parental consent isn’t needed for every field trip, but traveling cross-country by yourself might require more than a pair of underoos and your favorite transformer, knowwhatI’msyin’? Five minutes after we meet titular prodigy T.S. Spivet (Kyle Catlett), we find the 9-year-old boy crashing a physics class at the local university. Hold up a second. I’ve been to Montana; there is no “local” university. However, if you the audience ask “Who unleashed the child?” at this point in the narrative, your head will explode in Act II. At the U, Tecumseh Sparrow Spivet takes up a professor’s challenge of a perpetual motion machine … an untenable goal, and dammit if T.S. ain’t gonna tenable it.
Double dammit on the randomness of the challenge. Why couldn’t T.S. have crashed on “time machine day” or “flying car day” or “there’s no way to deal with Trump supporters” day? Clean, perpetual energy is a fine goal, but given the growing population of flat-Earthers, anti-vaxxers, and QAnon, we have more pressing scientific problems.
So for the sake of argument, let’s just roll with the plot that a fourth-or-fifth grade rural Montana ranch dressing invents a perpetual energy machine in his spare time. Sure, just because no scientist has ever conquered this problem or even come close doesn’t mean it’s impossible … I mean other than the laws of physics saying it is. Hey, what do I know? I’m not Einstein. I’m just rollin’ rollin’ rollin’/through a premise golden. T.S. sends his blueprints for such a machine to the Smithsonian and when they get back to him, he has to pretend his father is the true T.S. and that his father is mute so that T.S. can accept the award in his place at a ceremony in Washington, D.C. T.S. probably doesn’t have a whole lot of sportball trophies in his future; he’s gotta cash in on the accolades when they come, right?
Can T.S. tell the truth to dad (Callum Keith Rennie), a walking ad for American made pickup trucks? Probably not. Can he tell the truth to mom (Helena Bonham Carter), who holds a PhD in entomology? I say “yes,” but T.S. says “no.” And instead of leveling, the nine-year-old decides to hoof it on his own from Montana to D.C. [read: he runs away]. So while reality clearly isn’t the friend of The Young and Prodigious T.S. Spivet, the adventure is well worth the telling.
I expected to see only 30 minutes of this film, go to bed, and catch the rest at a later date. Young and Prodigious fooled me; there was more than enough within this Montana life to keep my attention. I laughed out loud when his genuine science teacher gives T.S. a C+ only to discover the graphs T.S. made for the 
assignment in question had already been published by a major periodical. Also, what does it take to stop a charging locomotive? One big red felt-tip pen. As I say, you’re never going to sell me on the reality, but I quite enjoyed the reality-based fantasy.
It took a Frenchman to bridge our gap … if one can even call this a bridge. We’re so divided between “blue state” and “red state” in this country, we often take for granted the overlap. Who’s to say a physics genius can’t come from rural Montana? Not I. Director Jean-Pierre Jeunet is responsible for one of my favorite films of all time, Amélie, so we already know he’s got a great feel for visuals, split-screens, and familial relationships. I found this picture frustrating only during Act III when the denouement seemed unrealistic to the point of teeth-gnashing, but otherwise, The Young and Prodigious T.S. Spivet is a delight. After 105 minutes, I hardly wanted to pants the kid at all.
From Annikin to Li’l Man Tate
Matilda, Ender, Mozart, and Nate
Any child prodigy
Would confess to an odd-igy:
Being smart ain’t the same as being great
Rated PG, 105 Minutes
Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet
Writer: Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Guillaume Laurant
Genre: Little Man Tate’s House on the Prairie
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: People who wish to bridge to blue state/red state gap
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: People who think no comedy can evolve from the tragic death of a child
