"Stars – they are like us!" This is the ingenious headline of Us Weekly, which features otherwise worthless paparazzi shots in which incognito celebrities make their purchases, feed the meter, and discover other activities that are far too banal to publish. Surely, when the same stars let the public step into their lives, such as through interviews or Instagram posts on talk shows, they are careful to curate what they share and to fan the parts that are the fantasy of being famous to undermine, largely to spare.
And then there's Shia LaBeouf, an incredibly gifted performer who gets carried away by Stargeist, and the attention of the tabloids caused by his public intoxication, the Ford accident and so on. Since these incidents, LaBeouf has made it his mission to demystify his own celebrity when he visited the Berlin Film Festival with a paper bag over his head saying, "I'm not famous anymore." Oh, but he still famously and although he's taking another swing to tear down the wall separating him from "Honey Boy," there's no denying that most people would consider viewing his highly personal, self-burning childhood memories ̵
Ask yourself: Just how curious are you to understand the source of the uncertainty and anger of Shia LaBeouf? If this is an issue of great concern to you then you're in luck, because "Honey Boy" offers a candid window into the actor's soul: a vulnerable, honest (or at least honest) therapy through screenwriting in which LaBeouf relates his childhood relationship examined to his father, who is presented here as a washed-up rodeo clown. Although Har is the best young actor of his generation, Lucas Hedges, as Otis Lort of the early '20s and as interweaves referred to scenes of the star in therapy throughout the film, "Honey Boy" focuses mainly on the time.
In which the 12-year-old Otis ("A Quiet Place," Noah Jupe) and his dad James (played by none other than LaBeouf) I lived in a seedy motel – far from Hollywood's relatively posh Oakwood apartments, where parents live They are usually outside the towers, usually installing themselves while taking their moppets from audition to audition.
That's what both LaBeouf and stars in this movie wrote that certainly interest his fans. It's also good when the haters froth to have a chance to remove him at the exact moment he's so open. However, the two-step process has the benefit of the film: one senses that for LaBeouf, the fact that all of this was put on paper must have been a cleansing process that seems to fluctuate between resentment and forgiveness. With these deeply buried open-air grunts, the actor was in a unique position to step into his father's position and empathize with the man who had caused him such pain.
It's an unusual opportunity for an actor That allows LaBeouf to make fun of certain elements – the ridiculous mullet, the sticky T-shirts, the affectionate-loving parenting style – and at the same time deal with his father's core humanity. The result is a tender depiction of the man who has damaged him and a genuine attempt to break the cycle of alcoholism and abuse that goes back generations – all through Harel's collaboration with The Neon Demon. – Cameraman Natasha Braier and He has been emotionally resonant with a series of central performances that feel grounded, never as gonzo.
If LaBeouf had also directed – like Asia Argento "Scarlet Diva" -, he probably would not have found the distance in which he had to disappear the role and deliver one of his most multi-dimensional performances (the layers come most in scenes without his son, when LaBeouf is forced to perceive his father as a person, not just the father who did him wrong). And Harald is a great talent, who with his 2011 documentary "Bombay Beach" has demonstrated the poetic ability to drop in on superficial judgments of struggling American Americans and register what is common in their experience.
This is surprising to take home for a movie like "Honey Boy" at a time when the culture of detestment and ironic distance is not ready to identify with someone like LaBeouf. The distance between him and us seems all the greater as Otis is introduced with a scene from one of the Transformers movies. Harley constructs her opening montage so that neither the audience nor Otis seem to distinguish between the fantasy world of a film set and real life.
At this early stage, they look as glamorous as a tryst shows with its co-star (Maika Monroe) in the trailer, quickly followed by a drunken crash in which he pushes the car with her and shakes his hand – Details that signify Otis are not meant to be read as a fictitious construction, but at least semi-autobiographically. It would have been nice to see more of Hedges, if only because LaBeouf's off-screen personality is much more interesting nowadays than at the age of 12, and yet it seems to be the age in which the trouble started (even if Jupe), although he is adorable, he does not show the potential of a youthful Schiia.
We also meet young Otis dangling on a wire and bring a cream cake to their face in a "Even Stevens" -Qual TV show. After the director calls "Cut," the actor wanders back to see his father encounter a PA and set up a pattern of pathetic womanizing that seems completely inappropriate to James because he is not just Otis' father is, but also his guardian. Later, he was forced to confront his father (in a scene where the adult Shia talks more than anything he could have articulated at the time), and Otis tears him in the eyes, "You know that I do you a favor that makes you to be my companion. Who else will give a criminal a job? "
But long before this catharsis has allowed, LaBeouf discharges his litany of abuses and, so to speak, removes the bad parent's cupboard from all his wire hangers. There's the drinking, the smoking, the slapping, the time when his father threatened the new boyfriend of his ex-wife (played here by Clifton Collins), the night he turned up a prostitute (FKA Twigs), who showed him his kindness and the many who frightened him were frightened by cases that undermined his son's fragile masculinity – even to the point of diminishing the boy's underdeveloped genitals. With these details, LaBeouf gives ammo to his critics, and yet this film feels like an important step in his healing process (not that we have to be subjected to it).
In the scenes with Hedges, Laura San Giacomo plays a therapist / probation officer who recognizes Otis & # 39; PTSD and urges him to write down the most damaging memories while unpacking them – and this is where this script came from. It is a sign of LaBeouf's courage and self-destructiveness that he wants to share this journey with the public. There is no doubt that his education was unique. Much of what he has gone through feels universal – or at least relative – and sharing gives others a chance to better understand him not only as an artist, but also to see himself in his experience.
And while what LaBeouf has raised may seem extreme and unjust, the film unwisely tries to end things with a neat bow, as if to point out that he only had to identify the source for the earlier trauma to it to do it right. The movie is not so much a sign of maturity as an early step in that direction, and the decade of rioting since Truck Flipping of 2008 has shown that the character of Hedges has a lot of self-analysis in mind.
But if you leave aside the mask that is Otis Lort for a moment to look at LaBeouf, you also have to realize that something has changed after this accident. Sure, he completed the Indiana Jones movie and made two more "Transformers" episodes, but he also looked for serious roles with directors like Andrea Arnold and Lars von Trier – and of course Harley, who took full advantage of it the obligation of the actor to create meaningful work.