Being Charlie review – spoiled rich kid grows up in inspiring rehab drama

Critics frequently cite François Truffaut’s theory that there can never be a true anti-war film. I’d like to extend this to the much smaller genre of films about young kids of privilege who get stuck in drug rehabs or mental wards. What adolescent doesn’t want to scowl and spit in the face of square adults who just don’t get it? Moreover, these boys (it’s almost always boys) brood their way right into the hearts and arms of understanding, sexy girls who also refuse to do what society says. What a blast! From David and Lisa to It’s Kind of a Funny Story (making stops along the way with scenes from Ordinary People and lesser known movies like Manic) I’m usually left in a reverie, half-wishing I could ditch the worries of the real world, go back in time, cozy up inside of an institution and find the love of a carefree, unorthodox girlfriend. (This is probably something I should speak to a counselor about.)

Being Charlie, the newest film from Rob Reiner based on a somewhat autobiographical screenplay by his son Nick, puts all the others to shame for making teenage drug addiction look so appealing. Not the intention, I’m sure, but dammit I don’t care what society dictates: I tell you the truth!

Nick Robinson gives a strong performance as the angst-ridden son of a former film star-turned-gubernatorial candidate (Cary Elwes). His slow march toward sobriety is pretty by the numbers (the program does suggest following steps) but the rote nature of the storyline is fleshed out nicely with a stable of good side characters. This includes an Ezra Miller-esque drug buddy (Devon Bostick), a tough-but-fair halfway house chaperone (Common) and the bottle-blonde love interest Eva (Morgan Saylor).

Eva’s name isn’t a coincidence, as her character isn’t given much depth other than to represent temptation. The pair can’t get too intimate for fear of being tossed from the program. When they finally get a weekend furlough, she’s itching to break into a wine collection, despite previously seeming committed to the rules. Charlie can’t afford to stray, as part of a deal he’s set up to avoid a jail stint. (Early in the picture he steals oxycontin from an elderly cancer patient.)

The male patients’ enforced chastity sparks quite a few amusing scenes of chatter. Some deviate into the realm of gay panic, but the dialogue is at least creative, and likely reflect reality. Indeed, if Being Charlie has anything going for it, it isn’t the dull father/son showdown at the end, it’s the observational stuff along the way. Getting sober is, strangely, shown as something of a snap set to a musical montage, but the specifics of the rehab-industrial complex and its economics are quite interesting.

Part of Charlie’s journey includes finding his voice as a standup comedian. His heroes aren’t musicians or sports figures, but George Carlin, Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor and, in what’s sure to be her only archival appearance in a film this year, Moms Mabley. Charlie’s talent show appearance is a remarkable sequence, and, without overly intellectualizing it, it’s a nice example of how one can turn personal pain into jokes. Story mechanics kick in when a smartphone recording of the candidate’s son saying shocking things about his father ends up on YouTube, but this, like most of the actual plot of Being Charlie, is of secondary interest.

Despite its addiction to cliches, by the time Being Charlie ends it’s a little bit emotional, thanks a great deal to Robinson’s performance. The film’s opening sequence is of a bratty rich kid breaking nice stained glass windows to Stax bluesman Albert King’s Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven. “Gimme a break,” you think, “who the hell does this kid think he is? There’s no way I’m going to like this jerk!” The closing credits roll under the rich, emotional and far more appropriate-to-the-demographic Fever to the Form by Nick Mulvey, and it’s actually quite inspiring. Charlie isn’t the only one who grows during the picture.