Hillbilly Elegy
Directed by Ron Howard
Although it was always true, 2020 was really the year that hammered it home — society has no real need for celebrities. And while they were roasted to oblivion the entire time, the celebs still thought they were saving the world. (“I can only say that I meant to do something good and pure, and it didn’t transcend,” Gal Gadot told Vanity Fair
of her viciously mocked “Imagine” cover, which set the tone for the year in the worst possible way.) And now here’s Hillbilly Elegy — an Oscar-baiting adaptation of a debunked memoir about poverty that was directed by the guy who made Splash.
Written by J.D. Vance, Hillbilly Elegy dropped in June 2016 and quickly became a de facto primer on lowerincome white Americans who would go on to vote for Donald Trump in that year’s American presidential election. The book tells the story of Vance being raised by his Kentucky family in Middletown, Ohio, tapping into the values of their Appalachian roots. And while the story offers plenty of harrowing details about Vance’s mother and her struggle with drug addiction, many criticized the author for painting working-class America with broad and overwhelmingly white strokes.
Enter Ron Howard, whose adaptation is a cartoonishly self-serious, ill-timed mess. Like the book, the film follows two timelines — J.D. as both a boy (Owen Asztalos) and a student at Yale (Gabriel Basso). No matter what he does, his upbringing in Ohio follows him. He has brutal flashbacks about his mother (Amy Adams) revolving around her mental illness and opioid addiction. The film’s narrative is built around a job interview at an elite law firm, which J.D. must attempt to make via a 10-hour drive after he’s been forced home to help his mom get into rehab again.
The movie is packed to the gills with dramedy tropes, from its Hans Zimmer-led score to its post-Malick/ Greengrass cinematography, which makes it look less like an art film and more like an off-season Marvel origin story. Most hilarious of all are the performances from leads Amy Adams and Glenn Close, who have a combined 13 Oscar nominations between them and zero wins. You can sense the desperation as they belt out every line, caked in makeup to look poor — Close in particular looking like a mad scientist from a children’s show with her comically large glasses and oversized wig.
Their performances, practically frothing at the mouth for Academy recognition, serve to highlight the dialogue, which almost redeems the film as the most quotable in recent memory: “I don’t care if it’s the Baby Jesus, it’s Easter goddamnit! Get your ass in here!” Amy Adams screeches in one scene. “I figure everyone in this world is one of three kinds: a good Terminator, a bad Terminator, and neutral,” Glenn Close wisely whispers.
If it sounds a little familiar, that’s because Howard is likely borrowing from his peer Robert Zemeckis: the film feels an awful lot like it could be called Forrest Trump. But it’s likely too pandering to have a similar awards season bite. (Netflix)