Pete Croatto, Cinematters, August 2014

Boyhood

An ICON contributor since 2006, Pete Croatto also writes movie reviews for The Weekender. His work has appeared in The New York Times, Broadway.com, Grantland, Philadelphia, Publishers Weekly, and many other publications. Follow him on Twitter, @PeteCroatto.

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The best movies are linked by simplicity of feeling. We don’t spend a lot of time debating why something is good. We just know it is. It’s as immutable as our moral code. Boyhood, which opened in Philadelphia last month amidst near universal acclaim, is one of those special movies.

Richard Linklater’s bold approach of shooting the principal characters (played by the same actors) over 12 years generates its tingle through simplicity. As always, the writer-director (the Before trilogy, Dazed and Confused) has the tone of a compassionate, observant soul who has been there. Despite the ups and downs the main character, Mason (Ellar Coltrane), endures in his young life—and there are a few—the reassuring air of Boyhood remains. It’s a crowd pleaser without embellishment or special effects or orchestral swells. The biggest thrill comes from seeing the story of us unfold.

Over the course of nearly three hours, we watch Mason (literally) grow up. First, his single mom (Patricia Arquette, her best role in years) moves him and his older sister (Lorelei Linklater, Richard’s daughter) to Houston. Mom attends college and gets married to her psychology professor, who turns out to be an abusive alcoholic. Mason goes from school to school, gets close to his dad (Ethan Hawke), and discovers his artistic side. Mom gets her life together but enters another unfortunate relationship. Mason’s dad remarries, gradually sheds his hipster lifestyle, and swaps his GTO for a minivan. 

Mason, meanwhile, assembles the pieces of his own life. Linklater gives equal weight to the mundane: finding his mom whimpering on the garage floor, talking about women with dad on a hike, an adult conversation with a girl. It feels like a stroll down our own past. At least it did to me. Maybe that’s why I see Boyhood as an impetus to challenge our limitations. You only get so many chances before you’re locked into the life you didn’t want to live. “I thought there’d be more,” Arquette’s character sobs as she’s faced with the prospect of an empty house. We all have or will feel that way. We pull for Mason because, simply put, he represents us. We were untapped potential and dreams and risks waiting to be taken. Linklater’s real, live boy protagonist reminds us that there’s hope for us yet.

Almost three weeks after watching Boyhood, I don’t remember specific shots or performances as much as I do a general awakening. That’s another quality the best movies share, and it doesn’t have to come from the loud, colorful trimmings associated with popular summer fare. The stories people tell remain the most powerful form of entertainment. Our life is a non-stop blockbuster. We’re the stars of our own show. And the best part is, we can write the script. Adaptability is Boyhood’s permanent legacy. [R]