Boyhood (2014): It’s About Time

Childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day, said John Milton. In Richard Linklater’s new film, Boyhood, we have the sublime privilege of watching Mason, a beautiful, dreamy boy of six gradually, but steadily and quite naturally develop into a thoughtful young man of 18, ready (or not) to venture out into the world. We get to know his family and extended family, their weaknesses and strengths; we share some of his indelible moments with his mother and father, at school, with the guys, with girls – some touching, some harrowing. We experience along with him the challenges that schoolteachers and peers, parents and step-parents, American culture, hormones, and a questing mind throw his way.  At the end, having watched his life unfold right in front of us, we understand Mason as a product of all of those forces: temperament, family, experience, physical maturation, and – not least – inexorable time.

Time is cast neither as friend nor foe, but it is a constant. It molds these people as it has molded us. Boyhood illuminates this tangibly and artfully.

Much has been made of the singular process that writer/director Linklater used in creating this picture: rather than trying to re-create the growing-up experience by using multiple actors to represent Mason at different stages of his life and/or using makeup, prosthetics and/or CGI to make his adult actors seem younger or older than they actually were, Linklater filmed this story sequentially over 12 years, with the same core set of actors returning year after year. To my knowledge, nothing like this has ever been done before. But this was not a  gimmick; in fact, quite the contrary. It gives Boyhood a naturalistic, organic and wholly credible look and feel, because, well, it is natural and organic. Mason and those around him naturally change and grow, seamlessly transforming before our eyes physically, emotionally, and intellectually, over time.

Linklater does not throw title cards or other narrative devices at us to mark the passing years. One of the numerous small pleasures of this film is observing, as Mason's life just flows forward, the markers of time, like changing hairstyles, evolving pop tunes, a new home environment, or the natural physical maturation, sometimes subtle, of Mason’s face and physique, or his sister’s, or his parents. The soft face of the child Mason becomes the more angular visage of the teenager; older sister Samantha begins to develop a feminine shape, becomes more sullen and self absorbed; Mom puts on weight, Dad’s face develops lines of experience, as his hairline begins to recede.

The movie's perspective is primarily, but not exclusively, Mason’s.  In many ways his story is just as much the story of his mom and dad, and an apt alternate title might have been ‘Parenthood’, had that one not already been taken. Adding to the verisimilitude of this picture is our fascination (and perhaps a little schadenfreude) as we watch the adult actors age in real time as the story progresses.

Wisely, the story does not to focus in on signal events, such as weddings, funerals, proms or other rites of passage. We get to know Mason through an accumulation of seemingly ordinary, although by no means inconsequential, incidents in his life as he experiences them. As the film opens, for example, six-year-old Mason hasn’t seen his father for months. Dad left the area some time ago, and “home” means Mom’s home, for better or worse. We don’t see their break-up, and it doesn’t matter. Mason’s circumstance is what it is.  Over breakfast, he asks Mom about when Dad will be coming back; and the point is made. Another time, when Dad takes the two kids to a ballgame, Mason innocently asks Dad if he has a job. A few years later, Mom coyly introduces Mason to her college professor; in the next scene, the following year, the guy is his stepdad.  This may sound, in my telling, like a jumble, but artfully stitched together these scenes form a coherent and evocative narrative, as Mason and his world change over time.

I have no idea how Linklater managed to find the star of this remarkable movie, who was only six when the shooting began a dozen years ago. But he chose wisely in selecting young Ellar Coltrane, a kid who is watchable throughout, and who turns in a fine, thoughtful performance, particularly as he gets older. Mason is a curious child, who, like any child seeks to make sense of the world and, as his world expands, seeks to understand the existential questions: What’s it all about? Who am I? What makes a good person? As he grows, he becomes an observer of the world, and more and more we are able to see it as he does.  His questions become a part of his ever more intriguing personality.

In his seeking, Mason is a quintessential Linklater protagonist, not unlike Jesse or Celine in the “Before” movies. It takes little imagination to picture Mason a couple of years after Boyhood ends, travelling alone on a Eurail pass, meeting a girl, striking up a conversation, talking about life as they wander the streets of Vienna. What’s different here is that, whereas we meet Jesse in Before Sunrise (1995) as a “fully formed” guy in his early twenties (and I know how imprecise that description really is), in Boyhood, we meet Mason as a young child and watch him grow into that young man.  By the end, having shared some of his formative experiences, Mason almost  seems like our brother or nephew or son. Or a piece of ourselves.

 

Scenes in Boyhood certainly echoed moments in my youth (impressions of which are still with me, even as I receive my first Medicare card). And, it’s not just me. I saw Boyhood with a group of people, including three comrades in their mid to late twenties, and the film resonated even more strongly for them. Although they are a few years ahead of Mason, his growing-up experience felt like a mirror to their own.

Linklater, as a writer and as a director, has a knack for capturing meaningful moments in a completely natural, honest way. Dazed and Confused (1993) and especially the “Before Trilogy” did this, as does Boyhood. Dialogue, meticulously crafted and rehearsed, comes across as if we were eavesdropping on real, spontaneous conversations. This lends authenticity to every scene, and depth and meaningfulness to the story.

Linklater also draws terrific performances from his cast. Ethan Hawke is Mason’s Dad, a guy who, as a young man, seems to have a hard time growing up himself. In the early going, he floats in and out of his kids lives, mostly out. As time goes on, he does get his feet under him a bit more. Throughout, though, it’s clear that he loves Mason and Samantha, and that they want to love him. He too, it seems, is exploring, trying to figure things out; all the while dispensing observational nuggets from his life, along with unsolicited advice. (A very funny scene has Dad advising a very embarrassed Samantha about birth control.)   He has a certain spirit and a style very different from the kids’ mother, refreshingly so for the kids I'd say. Hawke’s performance here is charming and nuanced, one of his best.

Patricia Arquette is outstanding as Mason’s mom, in a quiet performance that gains force as the movie goes along. Her character is a tough yet vulnerable woman, a single mother devoted to protecting and encouraging her two kids, raising them largely on her own. She also wants to make something of herself and her life. Mom provides a sense of order, continuity and (most of the time) security for Mason and his sister; even as her efforts to balance the demands of motherhood with her own professional and personal needs create significant strains.   Mom does not have the best of luck in her choice of romantic partners. Over the years, a succession of men enter her life, eventually disappoint, and as a result force her back on her own resources. Through it all, over the dozen years that pass during the course of this movie, Arquette and her character persevere, showing strength and vulnerability, persistence and frustration, maternal pride and corresponding sorrow as her children grow up and leave the roost.

It is not always pleasant, but in an odd yet real way, the succession of other men in his mom's life helps Mason distill his understanding of and regard for his actual dad. Over the course of time, he increasingly comes to recognize and appreciate the sacrifices his mother has made, her core strength and the value of her unconditional love.

Boyhood is a rich and wonderful motion picture. Seeing it in a theater feels like an intensely personal and at the same time universal experience. At two hours forty-six minutes, it is, if anything, too short. I didn’t want it to be over. I intend to see it again.

Boyhood is being rolled out to selected theaters nationwide over the coming weeks.  Seek it out. Update: Boyhood is available on bluray disc, dvd, and most streaming services, including Netflix, Amazon, iTunes, GooglePlay, etc.