Hillbilly Elegy

Hillbilly Elegy (2020)

Picture the scene almost 2 years ago. It’s 4am in a flat in East London and my Oscar loving friends and I are five hours into 2019’s ceremony. I’m two bottles of wine down (which is fairly steady going) and Frances McDormand is about to put us out of our misery. For months the Battle of Best Actress has waged. After thirty years and seven nominations would Glenn Close do a Leo DiCaprio and finally win or would the unassuming Lady Gaga have the audacity to grip that figurine on her first spin of the wheel and usurp Cruella DeVille? 

Surely not. Surely the Academy would be decent enough to bestow their highest honour on this intimidating stalwart. Then we hear the words:
“and the Oscar goes to... Olivia Colman”. 

Poor Glenn. Draped majestically in a gown of gold, but ultimately not the glory. Commentators claimed she just needed the right role in the right film and she’d win. 

Which brings us to Hillbilly Elegy. A memoir by Yale law student JD Vance about his childhood in rural America. A commentary on poverty, pride and substance abuse. Directed by Oscar winner Ron Howard (A Beautiful Mind) this has all the makings of a golden goose. 

As an adult, Vance is a likeable student; aiming to impress the top law firm as he suppresses his past. An awkward outsider at a ladder-climbing banquet his scenes are reminiscent of Scent of a Woman. As it’s based on a book the flashback device is deployed liberally and decades are leapt in seconds. 

His childhood is unpleasant and turbulent. Amy Adams plays his addict mother looking for that next hit - and, equalling Close’s seven nominations, looking for that elusive effigy herself. Sadly it looks like she’ll be out of the running. 

This haunted mother accelerates from relaxed to rage in the flick of a switch. Just look at Arrival or Doubt to know Adams can do nuance in her sleep. But here we are denied any real character development to explain why she’s so bitter and furious. Ms Close plays the limping, menacing matriarch who raised her daughters against a backdrop of alcoholism and violence. She’s grisly and no nonsense and yet somewhat the hero. 

The dilemma is raised of how do you (or can you) keep helping someone so self-destructive who doesn’t want help? But it gets lost amongst all the noise. At best there are a couple of charming moments, but on the whole the dialogue is clunky and cliche. The last 30 minutes is a triumph as the storytelling becomes focused and characters are eventually fleshed out.

A fun family film this is not. If you’re looking for that may I suggest Ron Howard’s brilliant Cocoon, Splash or Parenthood? But give this a go if you’re gunning for Glenn to hold aloft the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress come April. 

Watch this on a Sunday afternoon while you’re cooking a roast with a glass of red. By the time you sit to eat you can enjoy the superior last half hour. 

5 Tumultuous Thumbs Up!