This isn't going to be quite the traditional movie review. Being that The Book of Henry isn't anywhere near a traditional movie, I see it fit to write this review in a way that does justice to this unique, bold, and (I think) brave piece of filmmaking.
I guess I'll start at the beginning. I saw the trailer for this movie when it first came out in March. Conveniently, I was lounging at my house over spring break and trying to catch up on things that I hadn't been able to pay much attention to at school. The trailer for this movie was one of those great trailers that made me want to see the movie as soon as I finished watching it.
A few weeks later, when I was back at school, I was randomly searching things online one night and I stumbled across a copy of the screenplay. Considering that, being a screenwriter myself, I love reading scripts for films that I haven't yet seen, I just thought I'd take a glance at it. Then I kept reading. And reading. And reading. And soon enough, I realized that I had read a whole 118-page script in one sitting, something that rarely happens with me. It was truly one of the best screenplays I had ever read, one that breaks nearly every screenwriting rule in the book, but manages to be incredibly compelling and deep and heartbreaking and intense and moving all at once. Immediately after I read it, I wanted to see the movie.
For those who haven't seen or heard of this movie, here's a very brief synopsis: the film is set in a small suburban town where a single mother named Susan Carpenter is raising her two sons, 11-year-old Henry and 8-year-old Peter. Henry is an extremely precocious child genius who acts more as a parent to Susan than she does to him (e.g., he sits and plays video games in her free time while Henry does the finances and keeps the family afloat), but nevertheless, they have a great, loving relationship. They happen to live next door to the police commissioner of their town, who's raising his 12-year-old stepdaughter Christina, a girl that Henry has a not-so-secret crush on. Around the beginning of the film, Henry discovers that Christina is suffering horrible abuse at the hands of her stepfather (thanks to his bedroom window and breaks in the foliage that allow him to see perfectly into Christina's bedroom) and begins mapping an elaborate plan to save her in his private journal.
That's pretty much as far as I want to go in terms of plot synopsis, because one of the joys of watching this film (and reading the script, for me) was discovering all of the unpredictable twists and turns that this movie takes. And boy, does it take some. I have to give credit to the marketing people behind this film for not revealing a major part of the plot in the trailer, as not knowing that part going in gave it a punch-in-the-gut impact when it revealed itself. Given that we now live in a time where the element of surprise when watching a movie is virtually gone, thanks to social media and trailers that give too much of the plot away, it's so refreshing to watch a movie and have literally no idea where it's going.
So I'm going to say something now that might ruffle some feathers among some of my cinephile friends who live and die by what the majority of film critics think (this film does have, as of this writing, a 24% on Rotten Tomatoes): I love this movie. I really, truly, deeply love this movie. It really brought to life everything that was compelling about the script, and that's mostly thanks to the near-perfect casting of every single character. Naomi Watts gives one of the best performances of her career in this film, carrying the film on her back and channeling all of the joys and pains of motherhood throughout its 105-minute running time. Jaeden Lieberher (who I had previously seen as the central character in last year's underrated Midnight Special) is also remarkable as Henry, embodying all of the awkwardness and somberness and genuineness that comes with being both blessed and cursed with extreme precociousness and intelligence. And Jacob Tremblay, who at age 10 has already proven himself to be one of the greatest actors on the face of the Earth, proves once again in this film that he can go toe-to-toe with any veteran adult actor, as evidenced in many of his scenes with Watts in the second half of the film.
And the way that Treverrow uses production design in this movie is great as well. From the bedroom to the treehouse (which didn't exist in the script but was a beautiful addition to the visual design) to the scenery of upstate New York with all of its forests and rivers and tall bridges, he really created the childlike world that I envisioned when reading the script. And his attention to detail is incredibly present in many places throughout, such as having Susan (Naomi Watts' character) playing first-person shooter video games in her offtime (something that was present in the script but not given that much attention) as it not only emphasizes her role as a child in this family, but also provides foreshadowing for what she eventually tries to do.
Now, to address a couple of the things that critics have been tearing this film apart for: yes, this film does commit the "cardinal sin" of not having a consistent tone. No, that does not make this movie "insufferable to watch" as some people have said. Rather, taking the viewer through a broad range of emotions in this timespan, at least for me, resulted in a richer experience. If it had just stayed a family drama or a tearjerker or a thriller throughout, it wouldn't have been nearly as impactful of a film and it wouldn't have done these characters nearly the justice they deserved. So to the people criticizing this film's "tonal juggling act:" that's actually one of the strengths of this film, not one of its weaknesses.
And also, there have been many people calling this film "crass," "schmaltzy," "maudlin," and (perhaps the adjective I've seen most) "emotionally manipulative." A couple of things about this: one, unless someone is directing a single-shot documentary with no non-diegetic music, they are going to be doing a film that manipulates emotions. Every cut, musical cue, and written line of dialogue in a film exists to get the audience to feel a certain way. It's all just a matter of how an individual audience member reacts to this emotional manipulation.
And watching The Book of Henry, I will admit, I got teared up quite a few times toward the middle (for reasons I will not spoil in this review). Certain things happened in this film that made me think a lot about my relationship with my mom and how it is a lot like the relationship between Susan and Henry. It also forced me to reflect on how I, like Henry, had a crush on a certain girl when I was his age. I was deeply concerned that something bad was happening to her and I wanted to help her. I didn't go nearly as far as he did in the film, but I thought about what might have happened if I did. Granted, it turned out years later that nothing bad was happening to her, but the very fact that this film made me think about that and forced me to confront what would have happened if I had done something different goes to show how effective it was in its storytelling.
All of this to say that I think critcizing any film for being "emotionally manipulative" is a lazy cop-out used by people who don't want to admit that an otherwise well-made film just didn't connect with them emotionally. And I will admit, I tend to be a sucker for tearjerker drama films like The Notebook, The Help, Grace is Gone, and Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close just to name a few (note: you read any negative review of any of the above films and they all use the word "manipulative"), but at some point, film critics and everyone who loves and respects art has to accept that just because something didn't connect with you emotionally or make you cry doesn't mean that it won't connect with someone else emotionally and make them cry. There are probably many other people out there like me who would have an emotional, moving experience watching The Book of Henry but who might not ever see it because they read some film critic who called it "crass" or "manipulative" and didn't bother. And that's a shame, because when I walked out of this film I had a whole list of people I wanted to share it with so they could have the same experience that I had, one that I will hold dear to me later this year when I make my top 10 best list.
Because, in short: The Book of Henry is an exceptionally well-made, beautifully-written, and remarkably-acted film, one with three-dimensional characters that I deeply cared about. It is also one of the most daringly original films I've seen in a long time. For an original, non-sequal, non-remake, non-superhero-franchise film (that also happens to be an adult-oriented, character-driven family drama) to come out in the middle of the summer from a Hollywood studio with an all-star cast is something remarkable in and of itself. And not to pile on in my critique of film critics anymore than I already have, but the next time I hear one of them complain about there being "no original ideas" and accuse the film industry of being "creatively bankrupt" among other things, I am simply going to point to this film as an example of the kind of film that Hollywood isn't going to make unless people see it and embrace it. And this is a film that absolutely deserves to be seen and embraced by everyone who cares about original cinema.
I know it's hard for a lot of people to make the effort to go see and support something that has a low Rotten Tomatoes score, but please take my word for it. If you put aside the jaded and cynical parts of yourself and watch this as a film, sentimentality and tonal shifts and all, you will likely find its many gifts. Because it does have many to give. Gifts that aren't going to come unless people accept them and embrace them at the movie theatres. So go and accept them and embrace them, people!
P.S. To those geeks out there who are calling on Colin Treverrow to be fired from Star Wars: Episode IX because of The Book of Henry's negative reviews: please do everyone a favor and get over yourselves. The man has proven himself more than capable of helming a big-budget blockbuster franchise film that achieves both critical and commercial success (hence a 72% on Rotten Tomatoes and its status as the fourth highest-grossing film of all time), and, if you ask me, he has proven himself more than capable of doing emotionally satisfying character-driven stuff as well. And plus, Disney/Lucasfilm would be stupid to fire him at this point in the game given how deep they already are into pre-production on Episode IX. So no, Treverrow is not getting fired from Episode IX. And if you ask me, that's a good thing because I am very much looking forward to seeing what he does with it.
