Winner of the Oscar for
Best Documentary Feature of its year, the straightforward but deeply moving Best Boy encompasses not only some of
the highest aspirations of nonfiction storytelling, but also, in an
unpretentious way, some of the highest aspirations of the popular arts. Telling
the story of a mentally challenged man’s difficult journey from isolation to a
sort of independence, it’s a profound testament to the bond between a mother and
her child, with all the joy and sadness that connection implies. Filmmaker Ira
Wohl made the film to record his efforts to help a cousin, 52-year-old Philly
Wohl, transition from his parents’ house to a group home. At the beginning of
the picture, Philly enjoys a loving but sheltered existence with his aging
parents, Max and Pearl. Given his severe impairments, Philly is childlike,
capable of managing little more than everyday grooming functions and a few
simple chores. Yet he’s affectionate and he projects contentment, so Best Boy doesn’t play for cheap audience
sympathy. Rather, the film asks viewers to enter Philly’s world while also forcing
viewers to consider larger questions of what responsibility society has with
regard to providing for citizens who cannot provide for themselves.
To the
extent of their abilities, since both are diminished by age and illness, Max
and Pearl give Philly a comfortable home life. With Ira’s prodding—the
filmmaker appears in a few scenes and provides narration throughout—the doting
parents acknowledge plans must be made for Philly in the event of their deaths.
This realization triggers the most heartbreaking element of the story, because
Max and Pearl have to begin their separation from Philly while they’re still
alive, lest he find himself completely overwhelmed trying to make a transition
without their support. It’s giving nothing away to say that Max died partway through
production of the documentary, since he’s in poor health from the earliest
scenes, but when Max goes, the emotional aspect of the movie becomes even more
powerful, because viewers can see that, all along, it was Pearl who provided
the familial lifeline for her “best boy,” as she calls Philly.
The last
half-hour of the picture, give or take, is simultaneously inspiring and
wrenching, because just as Philly begins to adjust to his new life in a group
home—replacing familiar patterns with new ones—Pearl crumbles, partially from
the loneliness of an empty home and partially from the realization that she’s
no longer solely responsible for Philly’s welfare. Only the most hard-hearted
viewers will be able to resist Best Boy’s
power. The film starts slowly, using conversations and vignettes to establish
the particulars of Philly’s circumstances, and the intimacy with which Ira
presents the story gives the early scenes a home-movie quality. (In one sweet
scene, Philly, who often hums the Fiddler
on the Roof score, attends a performance of the play and meets star Zero
Mostel backstage.)
The longer Ira stays with the story, the more intense and
relevant Best Boy becomes. After all, but for the availability of a publicly funded group home,
Philly’s options might have included homelessness or
institutionalization. Yet the story’s heavier implications are rarely stated
outright, since Ira keeps his focus on the day-to-day reality of
helping Philly find his place in the world. Accordingly, the climax—played,
like the rest of Best Boy, without unnecessary
dramatic adornment—is devastatingly sad and surpassingly
uplifting all at once. Ira Wohl returned to the subject matter of this film for
two follow-up documentaries, Best Man:
‘Best Boy’ and All of Us Twenty Years Later (1997) and Best Sister (2006).
Best Boy:
RIGHT ON
No comments:
Post a Comment