Linklater's film unfolds like a series
of cliched cultural snapshots from the last 15 years: Gameboy, Harry
Potter, Britney Spears, Hot Topic, the Iraq War and Obama. These are
the historical cues, along with Mason's changing hairstyles, to let
us know the years are flying by. It's like Forrest Gump for
the 2000's, filmed in real time. With each passing year, Mason sits
on the sidelines as his mother blows through drunken husbands, and
his dad settles down by replacing his GTO with a minivan. He must
juggle his parents' emotional baggage with the overwrought hallmarks
of boyhood. Mason gets bullied in the bathroom as he clutches his
schoolbooks in terror. A smaller Mason looks at a Victoria Secret
catalogue before graduating to internet porn by puberty. Not long
after he is peer pressured into drinking a beer by some comically
obnoxious older kids. As Mason grows into himself, a cultural
stereotype starts to take shape. With longhair comes smoking weed and
kissing girls in the back of a wood-panel station wagon. With spiked
hair comes emo fashion accessories, suspect work ethic, and a passion
for photography.
Coltrane isn't unwatchable in his
teenage years like Lorelei, but he has about as much presence on
camera as your average reality tv personality, musician, or athlete
turned dramatic actor. Linklater successfully molded Coltrane into
the same pseudo-intellectual, self-centered, perpetually unsatisfied
wimp that Ethan Hawke played in Before Sunrise. He shrinks
from the screen with age, either hiding behind his bangs, or in full
recoiled posture. Some critics have praised the parents as the real
center of Linklater's story about boyhood. This is either because
these critics are parents themselves, and parents always think it's
all about them. Or because, when fully audible, Mason only manages to
string multiple sentences together when he's petulantly complaining
to his girlfriend: first about the superficiality of Facebook, then
about her cheating on him.
The most interesting and worthwhile
thing Richard Linklater's new film Boyhood has to offer is the
chance to see its lead actors at 12 different stages of their life.
Some grow taller, some grow fatter, and some never should have become
actors. Besides the wonder of aging, Boyhood contributes a
trite and predictable coming-of-age story with little style to
compensate for its overinflated sense of importance. At the end of
the film, an attractive college girl speaks on behalf of Linklater's
clever pen, asking our protagonist, do we seize moments or do moments
seize us? I almost started laughing when she preceded the question
with something like, “you know how people say,” and couldn't
contain myself after hearing what came after. Bits of fortune-cookie
wisdom like this are sprinkled throughout Linklater's film, putting
Boyhood over the edge in the minds of critics. They at least gave
reviewers a jumping off point (aside from the 12 years) with so
little else unique or interesting about the film to work with.
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