This cogent, powerful film of a Phillip Roth novel, which had its world premiere at Sundance, serves the writer particularly well. Its protagonist, Marcus, is an 18-year old Jewish boy in 1951 America, and he is as opinionated, self-righteous and resentful as  the other Roth heroes I can remember – which is why they’ve always turned me off, big-time – but with some important differences. In the first place, he is a virgin, and has no history of success with women that the others so casually exploit. Secondly, his story is framed as one of victimhood, of how an exceptional, brilliant young man is doomed by the values of a diseased, warlike culture. That Marcus, due to a conscious refusal to modify his naturally combative attitude, actively participates in his own destruction does not make it any less sorrowful.

The astonishing performance of Logan Lerman in the role is a primary reason for the film’s success, but of equal value is the focused, unusually well-developed screenplay by James Schamus, who shows impressive ability as a first-time director as well.

It is 1951, and the Korean War is raging. The son of a kosher butcher in Brooklyn, Marcus has just graduated high school and is desperately looking for a way to avoid the draft. His parents, especially his emotionally fragile father, played by Danny Burstein, are in a panic over the situation, having already seen two of Marcus’ cousins die in the conflict. They are therefore elated when Marcus, a straight A student, gets a full scholarship to a small college in Ohio. Tearful over the separation, they are nevertheless relieved that their son is out of harm’s way.

But Marcus soon learns that academic excellence does not solve other problems at the school. His refusal to join in its social and athletic programs, or even the Jewish fraternity, mark him as an odd, suspicious outsider. His relationship with his two roommates, selected because they were also Jewish, is also problematic, forcing him to find a room alone on campus. Most important is his fateful date with Olivia, a beautiful blond shiksa in his history class, who captivates him.

As played by Sarah Gadon, Olivia is emotionally insecure, which Marcus became aware of when she performs fellatio on him, impulsively, on their first date. Their relationship deepens, but it becomes clear that the girl sees Marcus as a kind of rescuer from the trauma of an abused childhood.

The centerpiece of the film is Marcus’ interview with Dean Caudwell, played by Tracy Letts, who has summoned Marcus to his office, ostensively because of the boy’s social isolation but, as soon becomes clear, mostly due to a latent anti-semitism. What makes it worse is that Marcus shows total indifference to his Jewish identity, and even cites socialist atheist Bertrand Russell as an inspiration. This extended scene, brilliantly written and played, reveals that Marcus has almost no ability to show deference to authority when confronted with bigotry, even when so much is at stake.

Nevertheless, the most crucial scene in the film comes later, when Marcus’ mother, played by Linda Emond, visits him at the school after he has an attack of appendicitis. After an initial conversation, when she tells Marcus of his father’s increasing instability, she visits Marcus in his hospital room when Olivia is there. It is after a brief conversation with her, in which nothing but cordialities are exchanged, that the woman makes a critical decision about Marcus’ relationship with the girl. Her ultimatum to Marcus, which she explains to him in painful detail, sets in motion the events that resolve the story.

But I also detected a glimmer of another theme, lurking behind the main narrative. Something unintended, perhaps. There was something odd about the film’s tone, about how certain subjects were treated. For one instance, the scheme that allowed Marcus to avoid mandatory attendance at Christian services in the chapel by paying a stand-in to sign his attendance card. More pointedly were snips of dialogue from Marcus’ first interview with Dean Caudwell; specifically, when he corrects the Dean for saying that Marcus wrote that his father was a kosher butcher on his application, when Marcus never mentioned he was kosher and, secondly, the Dean’s futile attempts to get Marcus to stop calling him “sir”, but to call him “Dean” instead. It seemed that, in these three instances, this was the kind of material that could actually be found funny. But, surprisingly, the tone was dead serious in each case. In fact, I thought of a certain popular Jewish American filmmaker – whose name I don’t need to mention – who could easily have gotten laughs from them. Big ones, in fact. But, especially in the Dean’s interview, Marcus’ rising anger quelled any chance for amusement. Marcus seemed to be saying, with an icy chill in his tone and glance, that here was one Jew who was not going to get himself out of trouble by making you laugh at him!

Spoiler alert: Don’t expect a happy ending. Instead, you’ll discover an unusually probing, multi-layered film with some award-caliber performances.