One Additional Thought on “Boyhood”

Boyhood is a landmark achievement in filmmaking, and it deserves a place in history. Its actors, director, and others who put so much time and effort into it deserve all the accolades in the world. I thought I had a criticism of the film, but really it’s a criticism of what comes next. As brilliant and compelling and wonderful as Boyhood was, I’m wondering about the potential for future films. Obviously the movie resonated with me, but once the credits ended and I’d had time to think about it, I realized that it hadn’t told me anything I didn’t already know.

Mason’s childhood was different from mine in many critical ways, but it was very much alike in many others. We both grew up in Texas, yes, but we also both grew up in the United States, and in a particular version of this country. In additional to nationality, Mason and I share features like race, gender, gender identity, and sexual orientation. I may have had a more affluent upbringing than Mason, but his was still reasonably comfortable.

Again, these are not intended as criticisms. This was an extremely ambitious project, and Linklater had to make the film at least somewhat autobiographical, if only in the sense that this unprecedented type of film took place in a world that was accessible to the filmmaker. I am hopeful that something like this is possible for other settings, be it on the basis of race, geography, or whatever. I don’t know of any projects like that in development, and anything that got greenlit today wouldn’t be in theaters until at least 2027, but I still hold out hope.

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“It’s always right now”: A Few Thoughts on “Boyhood”

About three days into my college orientation, one of our advisors (a sophomore who had the perhaps unenviable task of shepherding about fifteen of us into university life) suggested we make a run to Target to get any supplies we might need for our dorm rooms. This event sticks out in my memory because it marked a “moment of realization” that might be common for college freshmen, and young adults in general. Or it might not—I’ve never asked anybody. I have now lived more years since that evening than I had lived up to that point, so the moment may seem sort of pithy now.

Kelly Martin (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/licenses/fdl.html) or CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en)], via Wikimedia Commons

Oh, the places we went! (Actual store we went to not pictured.)

As we piled into the advisor’s car at around 9 p.m., though, I had this sudden realization that I never could quite describe. It wasn’t freedom, exactly, even though part of the realization was that I hadn’t had to ask anyone’s permission to go to Target late in the evening, and that no one was monitoring my bedtime (aside from basic social conventions between roommates). A better word might be possibility. If nothing was stopping me from going to Target at 9 p.m.—aside from not having a car and living in an unfamiliar city with spotty public transportation—what else was possible for me? Like I said, it seems pithy from the perspective of being 40 years old, but to an 18 year old from the quasi-suburbs who had never been away from adult supervision, the possibilities seemed endless. This brings me to the movie Boyhood.

Via 365filmsbyauroranocte.tumblr.com

I saw Boyhood in the theater about six months ago, and like most people, I was astonished by the ambition of the project and the story that it told. As you probably know, director Richard Linklater shot the movie a few weeks at a time over the course of twelve years, from 2002 to 2014. The movie follows the life of Mason (Ellar Coltrane) from elementary school to his first moments of college. The final scene of the movie is what really stuck in my mind, because it captured that feeling of possibility better than I could ever describe it with words. Spoilers ahead… Continue reading

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