Boyhood

Once in a (very long) while, seemingly out of nowhere, something unique comes to light that shatters all our preconceived notions about what can be achieved in a particular artistic field. Richard Linklater’s latest epic did just that to cinema.

Linklater is no stranger to long timespans in his films, namely in his magnificent trilogy Before Sunrise / Before Sunset / Before Midnight (about which I shall write in due time), where the second and third films were shot, respectively, nine and eighteen years after the first one, with the passage of time (and the ageing of the characters) being an integral part of the story.

In Boyhood he takes that real-time concept up to a whole new level. Twelve years in the making, it shows the growth of a young boy and his older sister to adulthood. Ellar Coltrane was cast for the role of Mason Evans Jr. in 2002, at the age of 6, and the film portrays events from every year of his (and his family’s) life, up until he turns 18 and moves to college.

Patricia Arquette, Ethan Hawke (a recurring presence in Linklater’s projects) and Lorelei Linklater (the director’s daughter), complete the main cast and we’re also witnesses to their (real) ageing process throughout the twelve-year span of the film. Our perception of those changes is so subtle at times that the effect is nothing short of mesmerising. Uncannily, it makes you connect with the characters on screen in an altogether more profound way.

Coming of age is a process that, for most people at least, owes more to fortuity than to any kind of preordained set of events. And just like real life, the story here is made out of the little details, not big celebrations or clichéd episodes. Those small things are indeed what make up the better part of our recollections, for they were the experiences that slowly shaped us as individuals, year after year. The details are truly what make us unique. Mistaking the film’s inherent (and intentional) minimalism for lack of substance is missing the point entirely.

Boyhood shines in its depiction of our relationship with the passage of time. In one of the most poignant moments in the film, as Mason prepares to leave home for his first day at college, his mother (Patricia Arquette, in the performance of a lifetime as single-mom Olivia) comes to a sudden realisation - that her life has just flown by, unceremoniously. “I just thought there would be more…”, she remarks in disbelief. The words hit you like a brick, after watching her mature as a woman for twelve years and witnessing the toll that motherhood and a fair share of adversities took on her. The physical changes she goes through, whilst more subtle than Mason’s, are no less striking. And the moment is a perfect example of what I call compression of remaining time - the perception that, as you grow older, the time left to accomplish the things you dream of, gets shorter and shorter; that life’s milestones lingering in the future, are fewer or simply absent. It may easily become a paralysing thought.

But, yes, that is life. It’s not easy, it’s not fair, it’s definitely not perfect as so many worthless TV shows nowadays portray the artificial lives of so many artificial-looking people. “Life doesn’t give you bumpers”, Mason Sr. (Ethan Hawke) assertively tells his son during a bowling game, and that may well be the single most important piece of wisdom to take from the whole film. Time will eventually convey meaning to all the little things you’ve been through whilst growing up. It will help you build a narrative, your narrative. Which is to say, your identity.

There was never anything quite like this and there probably won’t be ever again. So make sure you don’t miss it.