Beautiful Boy (2018) - Movie Review

The plot: Writer David Sheff (Steve Carell), after his son Nic (Timothée Chalamet) goes missing for several days, discovers that Nic is having serious problems with substances. As he sends him to rehab, and Nic's bumpy road to recovery begins, David questions whether he has the resolve or the patience to give his son the help he needs.

This is easily the most effective Carell has been yet in dealing with more serious subject matter. Serving as the point-of-view character for the bulk of the narrative, he gives a very grounded, almost uncomfortable, look at what’s like being on the outside looking in on someone in the midst of a life-threatening addiction. Part of that is due to how he handles his character’s own history with substances, and another part is also down to his remarkable chemistry with Chalamet, but primarily, it’s how his frequent showings of impotent frustration and anger feel like this is someone who desperately wants to help, but finds himself ill-equipped to do so.

Speaking of Chalamet, even with how impressive he was back with Call Me By Your Name, it is frankly astounding how good he is here. Again, the on-screen chemistry makes his relationship with Carell all too easy to buy into, but the level of efficacy he displays here not only shines brightly on its own but also gives a whole slew of older actors a run for their money in depicting drug addiction. It is kind of scary how well he delivers the frequent and sudden bouts of aggression, not to mention the sheer heart-breaking despair of his condition. Between this, Call Me and even Lady Bird, Chalamet is quickly becoming one of the best young actors in Hollywood today, if not one of the best working today full stop.

While there are other actors here that are certainly worth spotlighting, these two end up being the singular core that keeps this story intact. In fact, they end saving a lot more of the film than they reasonably should need to. As a depiction of drug addiction and how it affects people’s lives, this is a lot less grimy than it should be. Granted, being from the perspective of David in suburbia goes some way to explain it, except even the scenes centred strictly on Nic at his worst have this distracting sheen to them. Don’t get me wrong, director Felix Van Groeningen and DOP Ruben Impens bring some decent visuals to the proceedings, but surely that kind of visual competence would lead to (appropriately) dour visions on-screen; it doesn’t need to be Trainspotting, but it doesn't need to be this clinical either.

Of course, that effect lays mainly in the overall visual aesthetic; the script, penned in part by Luke Davies who gave us the fantastic Lion, does not share that same issue. There’s a very ‘tough love’ approach to how he brings the real-life experiences of the Sheffs into focus. Not that it’s perpetually stuck in dourness; there’s a weirdly necessary scene later on in the film where David gets into an argument with Nic over the phone and he throws the phone away in anger. Cut to him scouring his garden trying to find it again. Yeah, moments like that add to the attempts at realism that are being pushed for here, along with the blunt way the script deals with the details surrounding addiction and overcoming it. It follows quite a bit of Twelve Step doctrine in how the recovery process is outlined, but with that comes some pretty uncomfortable truths about how the process actually works. Mainly, that it is a lifelong process that will always have its ups and downs, but most importantly, it’s a process that only starts when the addict admits that it has to start. That paired with Chalamet’s performance gives a real tragic touch to the story, making for quite a few tear-jerking moments.

It’s because of that specific point, that recovery is mostly an internal process, that makes Carell’s performance hit that much harder. Even outside of the realms of addiction, any situation that involves intensive medical assistance and hospitalisation can feel like the worst thing in the world, both for the person in hospital and those that care for them. Being in a position where you know that someone else clearly needs help, but it’s help that you yourself are unable to provide, is utter hell. It’s like watching a loved one burning alive, when all you have on-hand is an empty bucket. Admittedly, I wound up brushing off that very scenario a while ago when I reviewed Mommy… but some real-life confrontation changed that pretty damn quickly. It does suck, and the worst part is that that internal frustration in being unable to give the help you so desperately wish you could give might even be entirely counterproductive. As we see with the more temperamental scenes between David and Nic, the urge to shout at someone that they need to help themselves works out far better in one’s head than out of one’s mouth.

And that, at the end of the day, is what makes this film feel like it’s doing more than just being well-intentioned: It acknowledges the emotional reality while also highlighting the empathic ideal that could counteract it. Western society, generally speaking, is in a far better place now than it once was regarding the treatment of addiction. While instances of victim-blaming will always prevail, as they do with pretty much everything these days, cultural attitudes have definitely shifted more towards sympathy, if not outright empathy, for those involved. Quite frankly, David’s general demeanour in this film is a pretty solid showcase of why that approach is needed. It can hurt, seeing someone else in that much pain and feeling inadequate in trying to alleviate it. Hell, feeling like there’s nothing you can do and wanting to just give up is a dishearteningly normal reaction. As I got into with Harmony, being someone else’s support is a tough prospect, and this certainly shows some of the harsher but also the more optimistic results of that.

All in all, this largely serves as an acting exercise with themes of drug addiction as the side dish, but fucking hell, the acting here really holds this production up high. Carell and Chalamet make for one of the most potent double-acts in any film this year, and with Luke Davies’ scripting and Felix Van Groeningen’s direction backing them, what we get is an empathetic offering where the strong points far outweigh the duller points.