“Beautiful Boy”—A Film Beyond Acting: Raw, Real, Revealing
by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD
The Motion Picture Arts and Science “Oscar” nominations said it loud and clear: An “examined life” was not their 2018 priority. Do Academy voters find shattering, dangerous truths that have an impact on family well-being in our country—the epidemics of child sexual abuse and hard-core drug addiction—the sadistic determination to eradicate gay attraction and love—too close for comfort? Or could envy of youth, beauty, and extraordinary talent lead to snubs of brilliant acting and creativity?
Nicole Kidman was overlooked in her astonishing role in Boy Erased; Jennifer Fox and all members of the brave cast of The Tale were ignored. As unbelievable, 23-year-old Timothée Chalamet (unforgettable in the 2017 film Call Me By Your Name) was also ignored in Beautiful Boy.
Chalamet’s raw portrayal hit so close to home for me that I believe it dishonest to discuss his shockingly harsh, authentic depiction without some personal sharing: Timothée Chalamet did not portray—he became someone I knew very well. For although Beautiful Boy focuses primarily on a father-son relationship as a descent into hell overwhelms both, it is also the story of anyone who has been held in the ravages of addiction, and anyone who has loved one held in this monstrous trap.
To create Beautiful Boy, screen writers Felix Van Groeningen (who also directed) and Luke Davies wove together two 2008 memoirs—one a father’s (Beautiful Boy: A Father’s Journey Through His Son’s Addiction)—and one a son’s (Tweak: Growing Up on Methamphetamines). Focus and in-depth understanding of key women in the film, whose acting was superb—Nic’s mom Vicki (Amy Ryan); stepmom Karen (Maura Tierney); Lauren (Kaitlyn Dever), Nic’s young lover and abuse-partner—was minimal. At times, back and forth editing, though it gave life to lost dreams and confusion, was tough to follow.
To frame Beautiful Boy, but not reveal the intricate plot and resolve as it unfolds in intriguing and highly unsettling ways: Steve Carell is Nic’s dad, successful writer and journalist (The New York Times), David Sheff. Chalamet is college bound Nic Sheff, as he plummets into the deadly grasp and horror of crystal-meth addiction. Carell more than holds his own as the terrified, overwhelmed dad who, despite every conceivable effort, has lost his first-born beautiful boy to a force beyond his control.
Beautiful Boy does not provide concrete direction for those struggling with drug addiction in their lives or the lives of loved ones. It does, however, provide extremely important avenues for professional discussion among ourselves and with our clients: How and why does a beloved son with a dad of economic means fall into a relentless snake pit? (The beautiful, private family Bay Area home was also used in the television series Little Big Lies, with numerous alterations, including the homey, inviting [expensive] kitchen counters.) What does the availability of endless funds for treatment and travel say about those facing this horror with none of these resources? What does it say about health care in our country?
Does the impact of divorce—of a mom unable to care for her child—and later, a remarriage with children play a role? (A well deserved shout-out to the young talent portraying Nic’s transformation from ages 4 and 6, 8, and 12—Kue Lawrence, Zachary Rifkin, and Jack Dylan. Do not miss his face and body language at both the marriage ceremony and reception of his dad and stepmom.) How important to a child’s well-being is some semblance of parental resolve following divorce? How can social work knowledge influence treatment centers that offer unrealistic hope with inadequate emphasis on the impact of addiction on brain development and functioning?
The genius of Beautiful Boy is the real-life portrayal of a father and son’s descent into hell. And beyond that, Chalamet’s extraordinary ability—he does not act. He becomes. I have never worked in a drug rehab setting, but I have worked with addicted clients in family therapy concentration, and have faced this devastation with some close friends.
Yet, for me, the actor’s becoming cuts far deeper. In the second year of a frightening, seemingly endless divorce process, I met a dedicated, gifted professional, one of us, who hid from me as long as he could that he was also addicted to drugs. He tried to free himself; he tried so hard—the struggle both heart breaking and terrifying. Chalamet’s depiction—the haunted eyes; the guilt and torment; the defiance; the lies; the eternal-depleting sadness, sorrow, grief—Nic and the man I knew were internally one and the same.
Chalamet lost 20 pounds, becoming gaunt for certain scenes. He rested to gain strength and completed the entirety of the shoot, but numerous “doctor visits” and “close calls” (that echo his character’s life) were documented. In the actor’s words, “Your mind knows you’re acting. But when you drop 20 pounds and you are under a rain machine for eight takes in a t-shirt, your body doesn’t know you’re acting.”
And neither, to this viewer, did the soul.
SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD, whose private and pro bono clinical social work practice is in Philadelphia, is a certified group psychotherapist and family life educator. She is a recipient of a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Pennsylvania chapter of NASW, and the 2013 NASW Media Award for Best Article. SaraKay is the author of Whoever Said Life Is Fair, Setting YourSelf Free, and Burnout and Self-Care in Social Work. Her writing has been published in peer-reviewed journals, newspapers, and blogs. SaraKay's professional life continues to be devoted to highlighting destructive societal forces through communication, advocacy, and activism. Read more about her work at SaraKaySmullens.com.
