Beautiful Boy: Film Review

Beautiful Boy: Film Review

Cast: Steve Carell, Timothee Chalamet, MAy Ryan, Maura Tierney
Director: Felix Van Groeningen

Beautiful Boy's take on crystal meth addiction aims for powerful tale, but presents a somewhat sanitised take on the tale, albeit blessing it with two strong leads.

Based on the memoirs Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction by David Sheff, van Groeningen's drama is aimed more at the middle classes unaware of the problems of rehab and addiction.

Carell, in downbeat dramatic mode, plays Sheff, who discovers his son Nic (Call Me By My Name's Timothee Chalamet) is taking drugs and who tries everything to turn him around. But this once close relationship is frazzled and fraught on the journey, in turn causing Sheff's family to be put through the ringer.

Looping nicely between the past and the present, the then and the now of their central relationship, Carell and Chalamet conjure up something special in many ways. Their bond feels natural and real, even if at times, they feel more like brothers than father and son; scenes such as Nic rocking out to Nirvana while David watches on in the car do much to build the bond and closeness before the addiction ripples through their life and damages it irrevocably.

In truth, there's little here that people who've seen addiction stories before won't know about - and the film's desire to portray the events unfolding is done in such a beige way and an almost hesitant approach to condemn the drugs' use that it mutes the final emotional impacts beyond repair, and makes what should be harrowing lesser than it actually is.

At times, it's maddening because of it.

Van Groeningen litters the screen with some beautiful vistas, some touching scenes which display the erosion of trust between father and son, and the heartbreaking feeling of the family left behind; it's almost honest in its empathy, even if it does fail to stir something deeply within.

There's an intriguing use of white noise at key moments, a sound where it feels like the pumping of the veins are overwhelming what's being heard, and if there's an over-reliance on this at times, it's an effective signalling of intent, a sign of what truly drives an addict and what pushes them over the edge.

But as it trawls through the druggy cliches, and builds towards an obvious conclusion, the inexorable march through blander territory robs you of a feeling of impending tragedy, no matter how great the work done by Chalamet and Carell; these two deliver powerhouse performances which do much to overcome the lesser impact of what should have been a stronger film to behold, a journey to be horrified at and a true-life trauma to have endured.