Boyhood

​Boyhood got its wide release the other day and, with that, I received quite a few messages from friends saying how incredible it was (with stellar ratings to back it up). There are far more intelligent things about the movie written on the internet, but I like writing about things I like, so here we are.

I saw Boyhood about a month ago with a male friend. I thought that the viewpoint would be more specific to those of us that grew up boys (the movie title seems to say this) but, after reading that director Richard Linklater originally wanted to call it 12 Years, I realize it's less about a boy growing up and more about how any of us did. 

We remember the mundane, and that's where his filmmaker eye focuses. It's a far less ostentatious, easier-to-swallow Tree of Life. We're not thinking about sunlight filtering through trees while running down a picturesque tree-lined street. We remember the dead bird we found in our backyard one summer, because didn't we all find and poke a dead bird once? And that's why, when described to friends, the movie's premise sounds so dull. But that's growing up - characters, story, but no plot. ("Plots are artificial," Linklater says.)

The other evening, I got into a pretty nasty fight with my little sister, one of my best friends and my mirror in most things. She's moving away soon, a feat that's remarkably parallel to Mason's in Boyhood, and I'll miss her very much. Not too long before that fight, though, we were on another one of our hurtling conversations - moving between side-splitting memories of our shared upbringing and discussions about where we saw our future selves. The other night, we watched a deer in the woods, stumbled upon during a run, and talked about what our hypothetical weddings would be like. Because, all social constructs aside, that's what you do in unfettered conversations with your sister.

And that's what you remember when you look back (the deer, the stupid fights, that time you drew eyes on her chin for a laugh). After the movie, I thought about how if I were to narrate my whole life to someone thus far, it would only span about two and a half hours. The length of Boyhood.