Film review: Boyhood
Richard Linklater’s Boyhood is an astounding feat of filmmaking. Shot over 12 years with the same cast, we see young children grow to young adults before our eyes during the course of the 2 hours and 46 minutes of the film.
What’s more incredible than the gimmick of it being filmed over 12 years, though, is just how much it is packed with resonance and meaning about growing up. And it’s not just about children growing into adults, it’s about how adults grow too. It’s easy to envisage how the slightest of tweaks could turn Boyhood into a film about what it is to be a parent, especially through Patricia Arquette’s character, who is the constant single parent raising Mason (Ellar Coltrane) and Samantha (Lorelai Linklater, the director’s daughter). Ethan Hawke rounds out the family as the barely-present father, a man who appears and disappears in his children’s lives, well-meaning but directionless.
All of these characters grow so much throughout the course of the film, and it’s such a natural growth that you barely notice it happen. Linklater filmed scenes each year for twelve years, and there are points where Coltrane grows far more rapidly than you’d expect. Adolescence really is something that arrives suddenly, and that’s rarely more obvious than it is here.
The parents grow and change too, but it’s important to notice how details persist within their characterisations, showing how Linklater (who also wrote the script for Boyhood — a script that probably changed multiple times during its filming) deeply understands what makes people tick. That insight is part of what makes his Before trilogy so powerful and it’s a big part of why Boyhood is so special.
Mason is our main character, and his defining trait is probably how observant he is. The opening shot, and the one that is used as the film’s poster, has him starring up inquisitively into the sky. As a child, we linger on him discovering a dead bird and amassing items that finds around his house’s garden. He becomes a young adult with an interest in photography, always watching, listening and questioning without trying to be a big personality in any situation. We see the film through his eyes, and he’s not always looking where we expect him to.
Surprisingly, this film doesn’t spend its time tracking the milestone moments of Mason’s life, at least not in the way we’ve grown used to seeing. There are certain things we anticipate from any coming-of-age tale, and Boyhood is more interested in the moments surrounding them. It’s the kind of film that skips the high school graduation to show us the party at home afterwards, or that essentially skips Mason’s 15th birthday to show us the evening before it.
And then there are the moments of mundanity that become important simply because we know they’re important to the character (watching this is like a trip through his memories, or maybe more like having Mason recount the story of his youth to us), like long conversations that tell us so much about him without having anything to do with plot in any obvious way.
“Relatable” seems like a word too frequently thrown around when we see stories that speak to us. I’m not sure Boyhood is necessarily relatable as much as it is recognisably truthful. Seeing the way Mason and Samantha interact as children reminds me of the sibling dynamic in my own family. In so many ways it’s completely different, but there’s that honesty underneath the interaction that reaches something almost everyone in the audience will recognise.
Meticulously written dialogue creates this illusion of being so real that it feels like it couldn’t possibly be written — it’s what makes people unable to accept how detailed the writing for the Before trilogy is and viewers will have the same response to much of the delicately composed narrative of Boyhood.
Almost inevitably, the overall arc of Boyhood doesn’t add up to one simple, straightforward idea. You get a sense that Linklater may have had a thematic beat he was building towards when he began the ambitious project but, as it goes on, we get to experience the directorial style change as much as we see the actors develop. In essence, it’s fitting that Boyhood can’t be distilled down to any basic themes. If life isn’t simple, why should a film that seeks to reflect life be?
At the heart of Boyhood is the idea that growing up is never over. There’s a point late in the film where Mason has clearly begun to think more rationally about what his mother has been through, and it is a moment in which he understands that she’ll always be growing up and so will he. That’s a powerful idea and one we don’t really talk about, but things don’t suddenly become any clearer when you’re older, you just deal with different things and you keep on growing.
There are many reasons why this film should be seen by as many people as possible (and it’s heartening to note that my screening was close to full). Among them are that it’s a remarkable achievement, an example of huge ambition realised magnificently, a wonderfully entertaining experience that is satisfying, and written in exquisite detail. For me, Boyhood is close to flawless, unique in its construction as a film of grand scale and intimate perceptiveness but similarly unique in its ability to make you truly feel like you’ve gone on a journey and really lived life with its characters.
Boyhood is in cinemas now
