White Boy Rick
“White Boy Rick,” a crime thriller set in the crumbling, drug-riddled Detroit of the 1980s, does a good job of depicting its sleazy milieu, and offers some outstanding lead and supporting performances. But the film, “based on a true story,” makes a less-than-compelling case in asking us to see its hero as a victim of callous law enforcement officials.
The young man in question is Rick Wershe Jr., who at age 14 was recruited to pass information to the FBI about Detroit’s crack cocaine epidemic. Three years later, in 1987, he was prosecuted for drug dealing and given a life sentence. (He won parole in 2017.) The crack scene was populated mostly by African Americans, and Wershe is white — hence the movie’s title.
Rick’s (Richie Merritt) eventual immersion in the drug world is no surprise — his father (Matthew McConaughey) is a hustler who sells guns, perhaps legally, but they can and do end up in the hands of shady types. In addition, the boy’s teenage sister is an addict. It’s his dad’s activities that first bring Rick to the attention of the authorities.
The cops and FBI pressure the young man to report on the activities of an African American drug gang he has dealt with in a gun transaction. (Jennifer Jason Leigh — among several intriguing actors in secondary roles here — plays an FBI agent.) The gang members (including rapper YG and Jonathan Majors) savor all the delights that oceans of cash can buy, including a trip to Vegas and partying in a seedy/flashy roller disco.
It’s hard to imagine why they so readily accept the presence of a white kid, but director Yann Demange (“’71”) and the writers (Andy Weiss, Logan and Noah Miller) simply present it in the spirit of “that’s how it happened.”
But Rick’s real problems begin when his handlers no longer need him. His dad, not entirely unsympathetic, has plans to get out the gun racket and open up a video store. It’s a pipe dream, Rick realizes, and, in a bizarre sort of bid to keep his family together, he convinces his father that they should get into the dope business.
Rick is eventually busted — no surprise. His dad wrongly believes the FBI will help the boy. Now the father of a love child, he is sent to prison for life, and tears are shed by Rick and his family.
Yes, the cops abandoned him and he got a horrendously long sentence (mandated by Michigan law at the time), but he did choose to get into the drug game, a fact that undercuts the film’s suggestion that our hearts should break over his fate.
While there are entertaining segments, and even a couple of comedic touches, in the end the film isn’t convincing, and parts have a paintby-the-numbers feeling. Newcomer Merritt impresses as Rick, and the movie benefits from Bel Powley’s work as the strung-out sister, as well as amusing brief turns by Bruce Dern and Piper Laurie.
“White Boy Rick” might have been intended, in part, as a critique of the “just say no” war on drugs of the 1980s, but even in this regard it’s pretty thin.