Boyhood (dir. Richard Linklater)
Richard Linklater has described time as “the building block
of cinema” – as indeed it is of all our lives. In his latest and most ambitious
work Boyhood, the Austin-based auteur
sets his camera to observe that idea, following his comprised cast of Ellar Coltrane,
Ethan Hawke, Patricia Arquette and Lorelei Linklater over twelve years; and
what a difference twelve years makes.
From the offset, Coltrane’s Mason Jr. establishes himself as
a screen presence that claims introspection as a means of not only drawing into
himself, but drawing audiences to him also. “You’re
still staring out the window all day”, berates one of his teachers as,
despite possessing an impressive amount of talent and intellect, Mason seems to
have no desire to employ his gifts at the will of others. On the decision to
cast Coltrane, Linklater explains that “Other kids were straighter…There were
kids who would have grown up to be athletes, student council presidents, made
their parents proud. Ellar was the kind who was going to be his own guy, he had
not come out of a cookie cutter.” As the narrative of life unfolds around
Mason, there are multiple attempts by overbearing (mostly drunken) stepfathers
to force his voracious energy into a preordained structure, with one
heart-wrenching scene involving the shaving of Mason’s long hair whilst being
chastised for “looking like a girl.” When
his biological father (Hawke) does turn up sporadically throughout the film, it
is to fulfil the role of the ‘fun dad’, an avenue of escapism for Mason and his
sister from the troubles of home life. With that said, Linklater’s characters
are nuanced and intriguing enough to defy the stereotyped mothers, fathers, and
stepfathers of conventional Hollywood. Hawke’s Mason Sr. provides an escape
because he too is seeking a way out of dealing with his problems; namely that
he is growing older whilst unable to curb his passion for the moment by forming
any practical plans for the future. Whilst Mason’s pragmatic mother seeks a way
out of her cruel circumstances through studying, his father looks to cling to
his (short lived) carefree youth, embodied in the symbol of his classic American
muscle car. When Mason reacts badly to his father’s selling of the car later in
the movie, he can rest assured that he has inherited what the car comes to
stand for: his father’s insatiable appetite for the present moment and for a
good time.
As intimated, for a film about the force of time on our
lives, the present moment is heralded as that which must be fought for (or
thought of) at all cost. As Larkin realised: ‘though our element is time, / We’re
not suited to the long perspectives’. Patricia Arquette’s breakdown as Mason
readies himself for college upon seeing his first photograph serves as testament
to this. Time is a cruel force that takes precious moments away from us until
they’re ultimately forced to the role of fading memories. What Linklater’s film
teaches us is that they should be captured nonetheless, pounced on despite
their tendency to get away from us, just as life can. One revelation, brought
on by the helpful hand of psilocybin, toward the end of the film strikes up
issue with the whole carpe diem attitude:
“it’s the other way around”, suggests
Mason’s newly-found friend, “the moment
seizes us.” Quite right, too, as in a darkened theatre this film certainly
seized me, the three-hour running time expiring far too quickly. Luckily, these
memories, thanks to Linklater’s perfectly placed camera, can be relived again
and again (alas, they will be…again and
again.)
