"There are moments that I look at him, this kid that I raised who I thought I knew inside and out, and I wonder who he is."
I tend to find there is a level of comfort certain audiences
are willing to accept when it comes to hard hitting drama. Filmmakers can
explore topics up to a certain point, but when it comes to some of the ugliest
subjects they try to reel back or gloss the picture in some way so as to avoid
crossing a line that will risk making an audience too uncomfortable. It’s an
issue I often have with many prestige dramas, films that are committed to
exploiting the emotional resonance of a story without delving into the harsher
reality within the subject.
Writer David Sheff (Steve Carell) is shocked to discover
that his teenage son Nicholas (Tomithee Chalamet) has gone missing. Upon
finding him, Nicholas shows obvious signs of drug use which rapidly becomes a
severe addiction. As his condition worsens Nicholas leans on his father for
support in a long and tumultuous battle to overcome his addiction and resume
his life.
When it comes to its broad structure and pace, there is a
lot to suggest that ‘Beautiful Boy’ might be more attentive to the difficult reality
of its subject. Its narrative is littered with recoveries and relapses as David
tries to pull his son away from his debilitating addiction only to be unstuck
time and time again. There are crushing moments when any hope both the audience
and the characters had is wrenched away and even those closest to Nicholas
question whether there is anything they can do in the face of his terrible
affliction.
It’s a devastating watch, or at least it should be. While
the story beats of the film suggest a gruelling and emotionally draining
experience, I found myself falling short of that response through the subtleties
of the films execution that seemed frustratingly at odds with its bleak and
cyclical tone. Overbearing editing that seems insistent in stressing the horror
of the situation when that very emphasis feels unnecessary. There are also music choices that conform to
the same conventions any standard drama would, coming across as manipulative
and melodramatic as if the film lacked confidence in the conviction of its own
emotional power.
In short it is a classic example that less can ultimately be
more. There are scenes which feel promising in their resonance only to be
interrupted by needlessly manipulative tools that placed a barrier between the
subject and how the film chose to represent it. Rather than enhancing the
emotional weight of the scenes these aesthetic choices lessen it, adding a
sense of melodrama to a story that was already plenty dramatic enough.
This is especially frustrating when Chalamet and Carell
already do much of the heavy lifting with the strength of their performances.
Their dynamic on screen are consistent enough so that when Nicholas and David’s
usual patterns of interacting with one another is broken, that alone conveys a
sign of trouble and elicits an emotional response. Their bond is a driving
force of the movie, how they communicate and relate to one another serves as a
dramatic crux which provides a narrative to Nicholas’ addiction.
When looked at separately, Carell is definitely evocative as
the stable presence in the story. His need to support his son without judgement
is one that makes the character effectively endearing, as Carell portrays the
confidence David has in his son to rise above his current condition with
brilliant steadfastness. There’s such conviction in this part of his
performance that when David’s confidence does waver and he begins to lose hope,
an aspect Carell also conveys excellently, you feel the full weight of his
emotional strain.
Meanwhile, Chalamet has the more tumultuous role as
Nicholas. It’s a performance that requires Chalamet to convey the sense of
promise and hope just as powerfully as that of despair and depression so as to
make the characters constant cycle of recovery and relapse all the more
powerful. To sell this with such heft time and time again as Chalamet does is
an impressive feat, but what elevates it further is the young actor’s ability
to never repeat his emotional output. Each time Nicholas relapses it does not
feel repetitive due to the nuance with which Chalamet portrays these falls,
each instance takes note of the passing time and ways in which the character
has developed rather than simply expressing anguish without purpose.
As I said however, it makes it all the more frustrating that
the intricacies of ‘Beautiful Boy’ cannot live up to the broader strength
within it. The screenplay’s narrative tool of flashing forwards and backwards
is effective at portraying the length of Nicholas’ addiction and the enduring
impact it has on those around him, however it also makes for confusing and
awkward story beats that don’t leave any room to explore the context around
Nicholas and David’s struggles. All of this is to say nothing of how it wastes
the women within the story, often reducing David’s current and ex-wife to interchangeable
props that exist to relay a specific moral argument to him. They do not come
across as fully formed characters so as the movie progresses without bestowing
them with any depth, it becomes more and more difficult to remain endeared.
Even the screenplay’s strongest aspects soon begin to suffer
as a result of this. What began as a film that defied convention and portrayed
addiction as a complex and recurring trial, builds towards a standard climactic
end point that while not inherently flawed just feels so at odds with what ‘Beautiful
Boy’ established itself as.
Despite two highly commendable performances, ‘Beautiful Boy’
lacks the conviction and the nuance in its own dramatic power to transcend its
narrative conventions.
No comments:
Post a Comment