Offbeat adventures and social awakenings with a terminally anxious introvert and the assertive, spontaneous older eccentric who cracks his shell and opens his eyes. Trapped in a stifling social circle and thoroughly smothered by his mother, nineteen-year-old Harold’s sole outlet is his obsession with death. It seems that this particular avenue is only available because the subject makes everyone too uncomfortable to engage, but the kid relishes that opportunity all the same. Whilst he drives around town in a hearse and repeatedly fakes his own death, Maude notes the boy’s frequent appearance in private funeral services and takes him under her wing. She enjoys death’s strange atmosphere, too, but also savors all of life’s more peculiar varieties and is quite happy to share/rediscover them with an inexperienced youth.

There’s a bright sweetness to this relationship, one that’s validated by the performance (and relative obscurity) of the two leads. Their connection is so potent because it’s so unusual, a matched pair of wayward souls that spans several generations, but we linger in the celebration for too long. Harold experiences personal growth, embraces the delights of discovery, finds a kindred spirit, but then falls into another type of complacency. The film seems ready to move on to its heavier messages long before they're actually covered, as if it’s afraid of letting go. Which, in my opinion, runs counter to its message. Enjoyable as a sanguine change of pace, particularly for the era, and for the well-matched Cat Stevens soundtrack (really excellent musical selections here), but it doesn’t exactly stick the landing.