Originally published on Verge Campus
The main question digging at journalist and father David Sheff is “why?” Why has his gifted son become addicted to crystal meth? What is it doing to his body? How can he fix it? There are two perspectives working together in Felix Van Groeningen’s new film Beautiful Boy that tell the grim narrative of a youth’s battle with meth addiction and how it became the object of his father’s anxieties. The memoirs of the real life Nic and David Sheff were adapted to create the new release which has received critical acclaim for its powerful depiction of a pressing subject matter, the opioid crisis. The film uses the experiences of both characters to create a moving and sympathetic story that is sure to captivate audiences, though its overly sensationalized storytelling and glaring flaws in representation should not be overlooked.
The film begins in medias res, with David (Steve Carell) asking a doctor about what meth use does to the human body in search for a solution to his son’s addiction. From there, the film’s narrative becomes non-linear, cutting backward and forward in time. This structural choice makes sense, since too many movies have tried to fit the addiction story into a standard three-act formula: substance abuse, rock bottom, then recovery. The story of Nic’s (Timothee Chalamet) addiction are presented as episodes and events, some positive moments of family bonding like the scene of Nic playing with his young step siblings in a yard sprinkler and when he walks across the stage to receive his bachelors diploma at graduation. Scene like this are quickly followed by quick declines like when Nic relapses in his dorm room or meets his father at their favorite diner after being AWOL for days to ask for “just a couple hundred dollars.” The constant contrast in tone plants false hope into the viewer with every few scenes, and like David, you gradually lose faith in Nic.
The choice to structure the focus of the film on key moments is an effective tool in the subjectivity of the film through the eyes of David Sheff. Groeningen’s film attempts to present both sides of the story but Nic Sheff’s doesn’t always seem worth rooting for. After countless months in rehab followed by relapse after relapse, Nic’s addiction becomes a heavy burden on his family, specifically his father. Carell’s performance as the caring and loving father is established from the very first scene and he is the main source of the film’s empathy. Carell’s depart from the comedy realm to that of dramas has not suited him well in the past, such as his somewhat forced roles in films like Foxcatcher and The Big Short, but in this role he did not disappoint. His convincing performance was easy to empathize with, proving an ability in him to fully shed his comedian identity. As you watch the narrative unfold, you can feel the hurt in his eyes searing through the screen as he himself watches his son’s life crumble in front of him. His performance might be one of the few redeeming qualities this film has to offer. Timothee Chalamet, the film’s main selling point, couldn’t hold his own in this more dramatic role. After riding the wave of award recognition for Call Me By Your Name, his strengths seem to lie in lighter, romantic roles. His portrayal of Nic Sheff was overly angsty and one note. Having a central character that can’t be sympathized with kills half of this story, but Carell managed to carry the rest of the narrative with ease.
The film relies mostly on empathy for and sensationalization of the emotional consequences of drug addiction. It keeps the opioid epidemic far from realism, and consequently relate-ability. Beautiful Boy is advertised as a film that hopes to bring to light the horrors of an issue worsening in America today, but at times it can be overly emotional and borderline melodramatic. Almost every “episode” of the narrative had some sort of overwhelming musical montage with a powerful crescendo. This was rather annoying after the third or fourth instance of it because it seemed overly stylized and ingenuine, not to mention it made every other scene seem like the movie was about to end. This made the two-hour feature stretch to what felt like almost four. You can only tease an audience so much. The first few instances of this were moving, I will give it that, but when it just kept happening I was almost desensitized to it. There reached a point about halfway through the film when my tears had dried and I could see right through it. The film had the potential to maintain that emotional captivation throughout, but something about the execution was too over the top for me to be entirely convinced.
As a film, Beautiful Boy is successful in doing what most aim to do (whether you fall for it or or not) and that is make the viewer feel something. When you take a step back and place it in a grander social context, though, there is a severe flaw in its representation. The film advertises itself as rooted in realism, telling a true story of addiction with the memoirs as its selling point. But what strikes me is the obvious problem many critics have failed to address since the release of Beautiful Boy, and that is how blatantly Hollywood has attempted to white-wash the opioid epidemic to make it more publically accessible and relatable for a mass audience. The opioid crisis effects all demographics, and statistically speaking it typically effects more impoverished and underprivileged communities. So as a viewer, it is incredibly frustrating to see the epidemic sympathized with because the new face of it is a privileged white man from a wealthy family who was a gifted student and athlete. Why does Hollywood want to evoke realism, but choose stories that stray so far from it? Not to say people like Nic Sheff can’t fall victim to addiction, it does happen. But why is Hollywood scared to tell other stories? Is the narrative of, for example, a young black teenager less “glamorous” than one played by screen-favorite Timothee Chalamet? This just further shows that the film is doing nothing to promote the reality of the drug crisis in America as it would much rather hide behind melodrama and Hollywood, white, glamour.
Latifah Obaid 