None of us may choose the circumstances into which we are born or whom our parents responsible for raising us into well adjusted adults may be. With any luck, we find ourselves under the care of two somewhat responsible people who make few enough mistakes that we’re kept alive and in one piece to build our own lives with some semblance of common sense they’ve bestowed upon us. But what becomes of us who weren’t so lucky? And what if this lack of fortune develops into a sort of cursed family tradition of dysfunction passed down one from generation to the next? How is the trend reversed so that eventually an infant comes into the world with fewer obstacles to a rewarding life free of any unnecessary trauma?
Many of you may already be familiar with the story of Hillbilly Elegy, the memoir of J.D. Vance, played here by Gabriel Basso as an adult and Owen Asztalos as a teen, a former Marine from southern Ohio and Yale Law graduate who in the film is on the verge of landing a dream summer associate job at a prestigious law firm when a family crisis forces him to return to the home he’s tried to forget. J.D. must navigate the complex dynamics of his Appalachian family, including his volatile relationship with his drug addicted mother Bev (Amy Adams). Fueled by memories of his grandmother Mamaw (Glenn Close), the resilient and whip-smart woman who raised him, J.D. must confront his family’s past in order to solidify its future.
Much has been made of what Hillbilly Elegy, both the film and its source material, has meant for archetype of the white, rural, and underprivileged demographic depicted in its story; how it presents poor American whites and what it says about them, whether it be an appropriate sympathetic portrayal or a pathologizing one. Indeed, much of the opinion surrounding this story is weighed down from the expectations put upon Vance’s novel as a sort of magic key in understanding the demographic obsessed over by American media as the essential piece in bridging the country’s political divide. What struck me as I watched the narrative crafted by director Ron Howard was that, at its core, the film is a story of multigenerational strife and trauma and how the two are passed down when one segment of the family tree fails to come to terms with their past before spawning off a new branch. This larger theme is explored through the story of three generations of the Vance family sans any extrapolated judgement foisted upon poor and rural white Americans as whole.
The Vance family story is just one family out of many who have similar histories of unresolved issues that linger and are passed down as doomed heirlooms that add emotional baggage and weight to each subsequent generation rather than any intrinsic value. The point the film seeks to make is one of breaking generational curses through intention, as Mawmaw did once she recognized young J.D. had arrived at a fork in the road moment in his development, and through determination as young J.D. had once he recognized his grandmother’s sacrifices on his behalf that fueled his renewed commitment to academics and shunning of bad influences in friendships. The choices of both characters broke the chains that bound the second generation of Vances in Bev who succumbed to her environment in her parents’ abusive relationship and the lack of opportunities or disciplinary figures in her life. The family saga is indicative of the experiences of other families, particularly as the opioid epidemic continues to ravage America, but is never said to represent all persons whom belong to their demographic.
J.D.’s onscreen teenage experience also struck me in its accurate portrayal of the burdens that are often placed upon children who grow up with an irresponsible parent where the child inevitable assumes at least some of the role of the adult in the relationship. This is clearly a burden that continually weighs on J.D. and pulls him away from moving forward in aspects of his own life, whether it be professionally or personally in his romance with Usha (Freida Pinto). His feeling of always having to be there to pick up the pieces shattered by his mother’s carelessness and predictable unpredictability will be familiar to viewers who may have had lived similar experiences, in part due to the convincing performances of Adams and Basso and the direction of Ron Howard.
Hillbilly Elegy can be melodramatic at times and a bit of a by-the-numbers portrayal of a family dealing with years of issues spanning generations. What prevents the film from totally succumbing to its flaws and becoming a disappointing throwaway are the phenomenal performances from Glenn Close and Amy Adams. Close is magnificent in a total transformational portrayal of an elderly matriarch who eventually seeks a second chance to rectify the mistakes of her parenting through her grandmotherly love for her grandson with mounds of potential. The veteran actress provides one of the year’s best supporting performances by depicting all aspects of the character in convincing fashion, from her frustrating lackadaisical and excuse-filled parenting of Bev, to the funny, blunt loving grandmother she became, to the savior of young J.D. when needed. Close is commanding whenever she appears and is the film’s heart and soul. Adams is equally good as the irresponsible and frustrating Bev who can be funny and charming one minute but is only a millisecond from turning into an abusive nightmare of a mother the next. Her southern drawl is good enough to not be a distraction and the emotionality of an addict in need of mental help is well-acted enough by Adams that it wouldn’t be an issue anyway if it were. Both actresses turn in phenomenal performances worthy of any awards attention they may be eligible to receive.
Hillbilly Elegy is an attempt to provide a glimpse into a family’s history of guilt, trauma, and redemption; a story that can provide a look at life not just “hillbillies”, but millions of people the world over who had to overcome obstacles to reach great heights or at least know some semblance of peace and tranquility. Director Ron Howard is able to neatly interweave alternating present day and flashback timelines showing both the current struggles of the Vance family and context for how they arrived there. The film can feel a little melodramatic and Lifetime Movie of the Week in spots, but performance from Glenn Close and Amy Adams elevate it from a miss to something worthwhile.
Image: Netflix
