The film premiered at the Sundance Film Festival this past January, but here we are, eight months later, and it is about to be screened as “Special Presentation” at the Toronto International Film Festival this coming September. We also have to mention that “Honey Boy” currently has a 100% Fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes (that will change after this review). So, why didn’t I write anything about “Honey Boy” back when I saw it January? I am, honestly, not sure, I seem to have just put it aside as it left no lasting impression on me whatsoever. The film itself is a rambling and self-indulgent foray into the psyche of the controversial actor, going from his troubled teens (Noah Jupe plays him during that time-period) all the way to his late teens and early twenties as a popular child actor (Lucas Hedges plays LaBeouf during that era). The name “LaBeouf” isn’t mentioned either, rather, LaBeouf has decided to use the pseudonym of Otis in his screenplay. Playing his abusive father, a meta decision that feels odd rather than invigorating, this straightforward addiction drama has Ha’rel using the handheld camera of her past documentary days to try and find the trauma within the man. And yet, it all feels rather familiar, indie cliches are apparent all over “Honey Boy.” The decision to settle between two time-periods is also a rather unsubtle one as the film focuses on the poor decisions that Papa LaBeouf made to torment his son with the inner-anger and deep resentment he felt for his son. Heavy stuff, but, at some point, the story becomes too convoluted to truly care for these characters. If there is a saving grace in the film it is no doubt young actor Jupe, a bonafide breakout, in a confident and self-assured performance that no doubt belongs in a better movie. Whereas LaBeouf’s less convincing performance as Papa LaBeouf has the 33-year-old actor wrapped in a bald wig, long messy hair, Elvis sideburns, and a beer gut. If “Honey Boy” felt like a personal project for the actor, it feels like total vanity for the viewer. I do wonder what audiences will think of this film if they do not even know who LaBeouf is. The fact that we, as cinephiles, do renders the film as a somewhat watchable commodity, but it still feels unimportant. It’s as if LaBeouf believes we care about where all his insecurities and rage come from, but I sure as hell don’t. His willingness to do “self-therapy” on-screen is no doubt commendable, but the drama falls completely flat [C]. Contribute Hire me
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