‘Beautiful Boy’: We Collectively Do Not Deserve Timothée Chalamet
CW: addiction, mental health, suicide
Beautiful Boy is flawed. It’s clumsy and naive at times, but — and you know there’s a “but” — it is wonderful. Full of love. Human. I already want to see it again. It explores the confines of narcotic addiction, not shying away from the mechanics, the root causes, the inevitability of death (by overdose, suicide or general wearing down of the body and mind) in untreated addicts, the ease for even the most devoted of family and friends to turn their backs on the addict, the inadequacy of treatment, the dissolution of trust, the guilt and desperation and torture (psychological and physiological, for the addict and for their loved ones). This adaptation of two memoirs by father and son David and Nic Sheff is hard to watch, but necessary, a first step towards the awareness and de-stigmatisation of addiction that will lead to better research, better treatment and better prevention. For more literature, see: Lady Sings the Blues by Billie Holiday and Chase the Rainbow by Poorna Bell.
The entire casting is very good, including Steve Carell as David, but Timothée Chalamet is beyond words — though “superb” comes to mind. I wasn’t going to write this review, but his acting has haunted me in the last three days since I watched the film and I found I had no choice but to give him credit for that. It helps that his character is every bit the “darling” his mother professes him to be, a kind, astute and generous man, son and brother, but Chalamet’s portrayal brings Nic to life with such power and grace that I wouldn’t complain if he were cast in every demographically appropriate role for the rest of eternity.
Beautiful Boy is a story about love, and how addiction is often stronger than love, how it takes over everything. The film feels bourne of love, too, an ode to this father and son and their family who overcame a gut-wrenching tragedy, set to perfect scenery and a haunting soundtrack. It’s beautiful. Too easy? Ah, piss off.
9/10