Old friends on different trajectories reunite in ‘Sacramento,’ a comedy with wisdom

From the “Road to” series through buddy action movies and bromances, male friendship as comic fodder has been a constant pull, one that has increasingly favored immaturity as the catharsis. Smart plus stupid became stupid hates smarts, until dumb felt ubiquitous.

It’s been getting tiresome of late to watch grown men devolve for laughs, which makes actor-turned-writer-director Michael Angarano’s old-pals-in-crisis comedy “Sacramento” a bittersweet kick. The film explores what’s funny — and terrifyingly truthful — about being wrenched into adulthood.

Angarano, who wrote the screenplay with actor Chris Smith, also stars as Rickey, a happy-go-lucky manchild who shows up at the Los Angeles house of onetime bestie Glenn, played by Michael Cera, to convince him it’s time to hang out more deeply again. This unannounced visit occurs after we’ve just gotten a taste of who Glenn is: a loving but edgy, nervous and needy husband to his very pregnant wife, Rosie, played by Kristen Stewart with such deadpan spousal sobriety it’s a masterclass in the everyday tolerance that undergirds genuine love. (With Glenn, she’s clearly had chances to do some pre-mommying.)

Rickey would rather they retrench into a nostalgia tour of laughs and revelry — he’s even found the tan Chrysler LeBaron they used to ride in. Glenn is loath to go backward, much less indulge in personality quirks he’s outgrown because fatherhood awaits. Right away, the perfectly (mis)matched Angarano and Cera do a deft job with the undercurrent in their awkward reunion. Rickey’s energy is harmless yet seems mysteriously pained by unmet expectations, as when he gently admonishes Glenn: “Loosen up, you haven’t said anything funny.” Meanwhile, Glenn’s judgmental attitude is its own worrying mask. He likes to remind people that he keeps his phone on silent to “stay present.”

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The tension eases, though, when Rickey finally opens up about his father’s recent death; he wants Glenn to road-trip with him to the title city for a spreading of ashes. Glenn acquiesces — a real adult supports someone in need, after all. But we know something’s afoot when, away from Glenn’s eyes, Rickey quickly empties a tennis-ball can and fills it with dirt from the side of the road.

For a good while, the breezy chuckles in “Sacramento” stem from the eccentric clash of priorities and temperaments of a certain kind of limbo male whose sociability skills have soured. Whether fake-wrestling or barhopping with women or trying to psychologize each other, neither guy really knows what’s fun or illuminating anymore. They’re just papering over the crushing weight of impending responsibility. Rickey, all forced smiles and performative boyishness, wants to charm his way into blissful indecision, while Glenn, a classically Cera-esque misfit of unearned confidence, talks himself into an illusion of control over his destiny.

But when it’s revealed what Rickey’s true dilemma is — an abandoned relationship with an old fling (Maya Erskine) — the movie’s sense of humor morphs, too, into an affectionate, even mildly scary study in self-delusion. Erskine’s salt-and-vinegar comic timing and unforced soulfulness is a national treasure. Thankfully, her real-life husband (Angarano) appreciates this and is wonderfully dialed in to why her no-nonsense character’s dose of third-act frankness should be the triggering sincerity needed to bring “Sacramento” to a believably offbeat (but no less pleasurable) conclusion.

The movie is also smart enough to recognize that its women aren’t there to save anyone, just to remind these well-intentioned men about getting over themselves. The prickly comedy of male-pattern personality collapse gives way to wisdom, something that “Sacramento” has in abundance.