Rating: R
Runtime: 1 hour, 56 minutes
Director: Ron Howard
Quick Impressions:
Where do I start with this movie? Author J.D. Vance has become quite the buzzy, controversial figure. His work is widely reviled, which probably means that it’s even more widely celebrated by people I don’t know. (Generally people despise something only after they’re aware of it.) I haven’t read Vance’s memoir, and I haven’t been following his career (which seems to be veering into politics). (Actually, I’ll be stunned if he doesn’t go into politics. The few pieces I have read about him all smack of a performative, Julius Caesar style refusal of the crown. Nobody who proclaims that he has no intention of going into politics that many times in print is not seriously contemplating public office. This guy is probably going to be president in twelve years.)
My point is, I cannot address any sweeping sociological claims Vance makes in his memoir because I have not read his work. I know some people are furious about the way he depicts Appalachia and the way he seems to suggest that failure to thrive is a choice, that escaping a stagnate, crippling society is only possible if you pull yourself up by your own bootstraps and break the bad patterns keeping you down.
Based on the reaction I’ve seen from friends, acquaintances, and the internet at large, Vance’s work could be titled The Blindside: Now Starring a White Guy. I can’t comment on that because I am unfamiliar with his work. I have never heard him speak. I have not read one word of his memoir.
But I actually liked the movie. Was it profound? No. Did it change my life? Nope. But I did enjoy it, start to finish, largely because of the performances of Amy Adams and (especially) Glenn Close, and early Oscar buzz for those two is why I wanted to see the movie in the first place. Granted, the Oscar buzz seems to have fizzled now. Nobody thinks Adams or Close could win for performances in this film. (It doesn’t seem so outlandish to me. Remember, Sandra Bullock won for The Blindside.) But even if Adams and Close no longer have a serious chance at Oscar nominations, I still like to watch them try to win. I know people rant that the concept of being “overdue” for an Oscar is an annoying, contrived myth. But I’m a mythology enthusiast, and I do believe that Adams and (especially) Close should have won by now. These women both deserve Oscars (based on the strength of their body of work, not some whimsical idea of fairness), and I see no reason why they shouldn’t try their hardest to win one. (I get annoyed when people get bashed for “trying too hard.” The reality is that for some young performers, the stars magically align, and they win an Oscar right away before they’ve had a chance to brood about it much. Others have to keep trying. Yeah, maybe they take conspicuously Oscar-baity roles, but you don’t win an Oscar by coasting through popcorn flicks.)
So anyway, yes, I liked the movie, and my husband did, too. I can’t speak to the intricacies of the culture in Ohio or Kentucky, but I can say that if your family struggles with mental illness or addiction, you’ll no doubt find many events in this film real and relatable. We did. I don’t care much about Vance’s philosophical musings or sociological conclusions. I’m in it for the human drama. And there’s plenty here to hold my interest.
The Good:
Three actors in this film make it special–Glenn Close, Amy Adams, and Owen Asztalos, who plays the young J.D. I knew nothing about Asztalos and had no expectations of him, but he gives an excellent performance. He’s so emotive. He makes us feel the trauma experienced by the young J.D. as he tries to navigate his perilous childhood. He’s actually much better in the role than adult J.D. Gabriel Basso. I was pleased to see Basso, whom I remember as a child actor, and he does a fabulous job of behaving like someone who was in the Marine Corps. But young Asztalos makes a far more engaging J.D. I cared about him. (Basso’s J.D. actually slightly annoyed me. He seems like he could fend for himself, and yet he relies on everybody else to get him pointed in the right direction. But that complaint is probably more about the writing, and I’ll say more about it later.)
I found Amy Adams painfully sympathetic as J.D.’s troubled mother, Bev. To be blunt, I feel like I could easily become like Bev if I did not have the good support system that I do. Now, I’m not a heroin addict. But I don’t need drugs to be exasperating, volatile, and difficult. I have bipolar disorder for that. Before I was diagnosed Bipolar I (when I was nineteen), I felt as out of control as Bev sometimes seems. And, you know, people don’t become heroin addicts for something to do on a Saturday afternoon. Usually there are underlying issues the person is self-medicating, be they biochemical or the result of trauma. Adams skillfully shows us how Bev vacillates between being wildly enraged and behaving as a kind, loving parent. The performance clearly shows us that Bev’s reckless, disturbing, sometimes even alarming behavior does not mean that she doesn’t love her family. It means that she has serious mental health issues that are not being addressed. The family does frequently cover for her and shield her from her own poor decisions, a realistic (and ultimately destructive) pattern of behavior. I think Adams plays her well, bringing out both her vulnerability and her scary side. I can see perfectly why J.D. both loves his mother and feels unsafe with her.
Close actually gives the best performance in the film as J.D.’s Mamaw. I totally believed her character. I feel like I’ve met her character in real life many times. In fact, my husband kept saying that she reminded him of his aunt, and I agree. (And I have to give the Vance family credit. They can’t be as screwed up as all that because they have somehow managed to keep track of all their old home videos. That’s more than we’ve done! We get to see these videos in the end credits, and Close looks just like the real Mamaw, a triumph of make-up and costuming as well as acting!) I found Mamaw’s journey quite compelling. She has a background of abuse. She worries she’s failed as a mother. Ultimately, she finds redemption for herself by saving her grandson. This arc is entirely interior. J.D. doesn’t see her in the same way that she sees herself, but I think the audience sees what’s going on with her very clearly, and Close deserves most of the credit for that. To me, it doesn’t matter if you agree with Mamaw or with the argument the author is making by telling this story. I like the film, the character, and the performance because we can understand how this woman feels and what she feels she has to do. Who cares if she’s right! It’s the human connection, the insight into the woman and her suffering, that matters to me. Honestly, I like Close’s performance here better than her nominated turn in The Wife.
Haley Bennett is also good as J.D.’s sister Lindsay. I’ve warmed to Bennett greatly since making peace with the fact that she is not Jennifer Lawrence. Every time I see her in a film, I say, “There’s that woman who’s not Jennifer Lawrence but looks like her. Remember? She looked like Jennifer Lawrence last time, too, but she wasn’t her then either.” (Bennett was also good in her small role in the recent Netflix Original The Devil All the Time. I really should have finished that review. I wrote half of it so excitedly, but then I woke up and learned that my mother was dead, and my flippant tone no longer seemed appropriate.)
I was thrilled when I saw that Slumdog Millionaire‘s Freida Pinto was in the film. Too bad she doesn’t have a better part.
Best Action Sequence/Most Oscar Worthy Moment, Amy Adams:
I doubt Adams will get a nomination for her work here, but her heart-to-heart conversation in the car with young J.D. that turns into a near car wreck, murder accusations, and a CPS call showcases the actress’s versatility and the terrifying fluidity of Bev’s moods.
Bev’s rollerskating scene is pretty good, too, especially when contrasted with the awful moment when her knowledge as a nurse lets her know that someone does not need an ambulance. The variation in her behavior is stark, showing us that her life is a wreck not because she is incapable but because she is ill.
Best Scene:
Perhaps the scene I just mentioned is the strongest. Clearly it’s a significant episode in J.D.’s life. After all, we see it more than once.
But perhaps even better is J.D.’s reaction to his Mamaw’s conversation with the Meals-on-Wheels delivery driver.
Also good is the urine sample debate.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment, Glenn Close:
That bit with the calculator in the car is set up like an awards show clip. I’ve even seen Netflix showcase it as an ad for the movie.
It’s good, but even better is the moment when Mamaw lies quietly in her hospital bed, considering what she must do.
Close’s performance is an accumulation of many small moments. Every moment she has as Mamaw is what makes her work Oscar worthy (while Adams has a number of distinct, showier scenes). Even though an Oscar for this performance now seems unattainable, I think Close is good. She embodies the character and makes me like and understand the woman. Honestly her performance is the best part of the film.
Best Scene Visually:
The film’s visual style didn’t make much of an impression on me. I found the characters faces and body language more interesting than the shot composition. J.D.’s posture convinced me he was a Marine. The funeral scene contains more examples of eye-catching physicality by the actors. Curious to me, too, was the choice to use two actors to play J.D. but simply altering Haley Bennett’s appearance through make-up and costume, allowing her to play his sister past and present.
The Negatives:
The best parts of this drama take place in J.D.’s past, yet we still spend a significant hunk of time in the present. Amy Adams and Haley Bennett are good in these “present day” scenes. And Gabriel Basso is not bad. (He has excellent, highly convincing posture.) But Glenn Close and Owen Asztalos add a spark that is sorely missing when they’re gone.
Frieda Pinto is used particularly badly. I like her character–sort of. But she somehow seems so bland compared to everyone else. That’s hard to understand since on paper she’s the daughter of self-made immigrants who got accepted to Yale and is flourishing there (so much so that she is apparently in charge of arranging her boyfriend’s life). The “surp” scene is cute (sort of), but I wish we got more moments of the two together to see them functioning as a happy (and interesting) couple.
Actually, I found the “surp” scene kind of grating. I don’t know why I said it was cute. (Why do I lie, even to myself?) In the moment, the “surp” thing annoyed me. So what if he says “surp”? There’s something vaguely unsettling about the way J.D. learns to “succeed” by changing everything about himself. In an early scene, he goes to a banquet as part of the interview process for a position he needs. In a frantic call to Pinto’s Usha, he says that he feels like it’s all a test, and she replies that it is, then teaches him how to use the proper silverware at dinner.
The movie does send sort of a mixed message. Mamaw says that family is the only thing that matters, but we see that time and again, the way for J.D. to succeed in life is to get away from his family and his family culture. He has to give a daily performance as the sort of person who succeeds at Yale and gets sought after positions. Granted, poverty and drug addiction are not a pleasant way to live, but every step J.D. takes away from his origins seems to make him more and more generic and dull.
Of course, his vehement (and authentic) outburst of (righteous) rage at the dinner seems to get him more positive attention than all of his uncomfortable posturing. His ability to distance himself from his impoverished past and behave like a respectable, upwardly mobile young go-getter will help him to be accepted into polite society, I’m sure. It will open doors and impress the right kinds of contacts. But you’ll notice that when he wanted to write a successful book, he went right for his traumatic past with his highly imperfect family. But now I’m conflating the author of the memoir and the character in the film. As I think about it, I’m starting to see why a lot of people don’t like this guy.
But the film itself focuses far more on the young J.D. and his interactions with suffering family members. Close, Adams, and Asztalos show us emotion we can believe. (At least, I believed them, and so did my husband.) Their performances are the core of the film for me, and I actively enjoyed watching it.
Overall:
From the sounds of things, Hillbilly Elegy won’t be winning any Academy Awards, but I enjoyed the movie start to finish, particularly the performances of Glenn Close, Amy Adams, and Owen Asztalos. Netflix has made worse original films. That’s for sure!