Review: "Beautiful Boy" Opens a Conversation About Drug Addiction in Powerfully Real Ways

Scene from Beautiful Boy

The subject of addiction is something that has greatly impacted America over the years, which makes it strange how little cinema has decided to address it. For those who know someone, or are themselves, there is a certain pain the experience of watching something pure become diluted, floating away from the innocence that you once assumed them to have. At its core, director Felix van Groeningen's Beautiful Boy not only captures a story that has a horrifying reality to a teenager stumbling in and out of sobriety, but it also has the impact he leaves on his family, especially a father who cares too much. There's a desperation to both performances that ratchets up the emotion in a way that creates one of the most eye-opening, emotional dramas of 2018 and allows for an entry point for people not only to understand addiction, but to even empathize with their struggles. 

As the credits will suggest, Beautiful Boy is based on TWO true stories. In this case, it's memoirs written by the real life counterparts of son Nic (Timothee Chalamet) and father David Sheff (Steve Carell), who exist in each other's lives almost as beacons of hope. For Nic, David's unwavering support is a silver lining that things can get better. For David, it's the hope that the meth addiction that afflicts his son will disappear and that Nic can, as the title suggests, become a beautiful boy once again. These two forces are constantly at play against each other and it becomes heartbreaking as the story becomes more centered on the rehab stint. In a fragmented fashion, the audience is introduced to these characters' struggles in ways that would seem conventional, as if Nic is more just staying out too late and annoying David. There's an innocence and optimism at first that creates a deeper understanding between characters. There have been rough days before, but they got through them just fine. Similarly, there's faith in David's portrayal that would suggest that this ugly addiction is just another unfortunate hurdle, and that one day things will return to normal.

Where the film most succeeds is in the performance by Chalamet, who is almost too convincing as an addict wandering through life with a glazed over appearance, trying to find the next hit. His story is more fluid in part because it's mostly action, and the blissful high is painted simultaneously as romantic and as a relapse that is painful. You get why he loves the high, but still want to reach through the screen and tell him to stop. He has given into an allusion that doesn't have a happy ending, and it's reflected through countless rehab meetings where people give stories of their own struggles. Nic is just a kid, scrawling crude images in his notebook and blaring Nirvana like some deeper message. He is rebellious, but there's a sincerity to him that makes him seem human. The film doesn't demonize him, but more tries to understand his purpose. When he's sober, he seems electric, capable of conquering the world. You can't understand why he'd crack up. Without falling entirely into ugly stereotypes, the film's depiction of inebriation is grounded in a realism where the self-destruction is deeply rooted, but only depicted in the moment as slight. It's obvious that this reaches a breaking point, but Chalamet manages to walk the line in another breathtaking performance that reflects his charismatic potential as a young actor. He is an addict in the nuance, hiding his grief in a way that shines only in nervous tics. 

Likewise, the other anchor to the film is Carell in what is probably his strongest dramatic role to date. It's been incredible to see him reinvent his persona as a dramatic actor over the past few years and now fully realize his potential. In the realm of the film, he is equally an exposition deliverer as well as the emotional center for audiences who more associate with sobriety. Without becoming heavy-handed, David explores the world of addiction more as a scholar, trying to understand how to break through to his son. The way he can stare into Nic's eyes and know that something is wrong is perfectly paternal. Every moment is filled with the anxiety of feeling  hopeless, as if the effort will never be enough. As much as Chalamet plays into often unaware innocence to his actions, Carell is capable of tipping the film into emotional chaos with how he reflects a different kind of hopelessness. It's the fear of being a parent whose child is forever deemed a burnout, who will always be an asterisk instead of a beautiful boy. David lives in a world of constant dread, serving his son's condition than living a fulfilling Normal Rockwell-esque life. In that way, the film's understanding of drug addiction is twofold and becomes something greater. It isn't just about why drugs are bad internally, but also how they change the world externally. It may seem contrary, but the film's pathos is its most convincing tool.

Beyond the performances, the film is arguably a bit more conventional. The soundtrack's use of Perry Como's cover of "Sunrise Sunset" is possibly too on the nose. However, Groeningen's intents are so well recognized that it overpowers these elements in a way that gets to the heart of his subject. As much as the film falls back on cliches that overwhelm in distracting ways, it's the performances at the center that help to elevate the messages. Chalamet and Carell deliver great performances that make these sentimental montages work. You're left listening to Neil Young's "Heart of Gold" as Nic drives down a road and feel relieved in his blissful smile. There's moments of reprieve for the emotional weight that keep this from falling too far into despair. It also shows that drug addiction may be a consistent issue, but there are moments where sobriety feel like the greatest thing in the world. The fear of the next high may linger in each scene, but the idea of a Hollywood ending is a naive but appreciative one that makes the audience culpable to the plot. There's hope that Carell can get through, and it's in these beautiful moments of convention that it begins to work subliminally. It may differ per audience member, but it captures just how rocky the road actually is.

Beautiful Boy is a film at odds with its tone in that way. It can get dark, but it revels equally in the beautiful moments of peace and lucidity. While the ending could be argued as "conventional," despite being based on real events, the relief that comes with it may better serve the film's intent. More than telling a compelling story, it's meant as a way of opening a discussion about drug addiction in a way that's accessible to general audiences. It's not meant to repulse them to the point of disowning an addict. Instead, it's an attempt to find the heart of the individual suffering from the disease and why it's important to care. Yes, the performances are grounded in a realism that is painfully honest. However, it's the feeling of creating this world that feels more important, that drug addiction isn't always something chaotic, where someone becomes a gang member or prostitute. It's often something more personal and emotional, impacting a family more than a violent shift in career. The quest to solve the problem remains something that may unfortunately exist in America especially for centuries to come, but the idea of having an optimistic outlook amid despair is the film's greatest achievement, and it's why the film feels sustainable.

For any fault that Beautiful Boy may have in being a totally compelling and original story, it makes up for with a deeper and more powerful impact. Its ability to look into the souls of the characters and find something more important about our society and ourselves makes the conversation it wants to have feel easier. Because it paints a portrait that is grounded in something familiar, it makes the next step easier to picture. It's thanks to Carell and Chalamet's phenomenal performances that the film works as something more than a manipulative tool. A lesser performance would've caused it to seem distant, as if existing in a cartoon of what an addiction story is supposed to play like. Because of its reality, the film works at creating a story that will stick with audiences and force them to realize what addiction means for themselves and others. It won't stop it from happening, but it will create an understanding that the road to recovery is possible, even if the statistics say otherwise. The only way to get there is to try.