IIt may be the case that many of us still float around us in our sense of well-being, eager to feed the height as long as possible, after a period of four years that collapses into a bottomless emotional and psychological well. We are not even positive or hopeful, but the ability to feel anything normally again – to grieve, to complain, to feel everything, from anger to relief and, yes, even joy.
Maybe we didn’t even realize we had been holding our breath for four years. Only after we expired did we realize that all these feelings were ready to overflow, the good ones, the bad ones and all the middle ones. It’s a lot of feeling to do! It’s exhausting, but also intoxicating.
And then there’s the new Justin Timberlake drama Palmer, and its themes of tolerance, redemption, empathy and the celebration of otherness.
It is a cinematic meal of comfort in a rare and late banquet moment for seriousness, kindness and memories that there are still small sparks of humanity. Palmer is, as far as these things go in the world of art and film, genetically designed to force you to … er, I mean leave you – feel things.
In the film, released on Apple TV + on Friday, Timberlake plays a former consecrated named Eddie Palmer, who after serving 12 years for a crime, returns to his hometown in the rural south to live with his grandmother, Vivian ( June Squibb, always), who raised him. Living in a trailer next door is a single mother who has no problems except (Juno Temple) and her 7-year-old son, Sam (newcomer Ryder Allen). Palmer looks out the window, watching his mother and son play with the dolls and raise an eyebrow.
Palmer is caught one morning finding Sam in the house. His mother took off – not for the first time – and, as he did before, Vivian takes him. They eat together and go to church together. Vivian lets Sam do her hair and play with her makeup. Sam is remarkably unaware of his behavior, even around Palmer. “You know you’re a boy, don’t you?” The boys don’t play with dolls, “says Palmer. “Well, I’m a boy, and I do,” Sam says, shrugging.
When Vivian dies tragically in her sleep one night, Palmer takes care of Sam. You’d think the two would collide right away. But Palmer sees ways in which the community, both children and adults, intimidate Sam for his unwavering self-confidence, to proudly want to dress like a princess, and to organize tea parties with the girls. at school. Palmer becomes a staunch supporter and defender of Sam and the kind of father figure such a boy desperately needs.
Folks, you’ll never believe this: they save each other.
The best thing Palmer is that you’ve seen him before. It is Big dad, but seriously. It is About a boy, but the boy is gay. I can’t talk about how aware the filmmakers, including director Fisher Stevens and screenwriter Cheryl Guerriero, were of this formula, but the film is all the better as it doesn’t deviate from it, hitting every familiar rhythm with the precision of the strings ripped in the acoustic guitar score that you can only hear describing this movie.
He unleashes the tap of all those emotions mentioned above, bottled up and lets them spray with all the force of an outbreak: a flood of cathartic appreciation for Sam’s struggle, Palmer’s altruism and their power to face the rugged road ahead in a cruel way. society.
You will cry and feel good about it. You will be proud of your empathy and your awakening. That little boy Sam doesn’t deserve a hard life just because he likes girls’ things and lives in a city full of homophobes! It’s a movie that has the role of beating the game on the back for its target audience, and here’s the easy problem.
Messaging is undeniable. Timberlake, to his credit, is excellent, a triumphant return to a promising acting career that, at one point, appeared disturbing. Allen as Sam is a revelation. Palmer it is so visible that you almost do not have to pay full attention and yet you will continue to enjoy all the emotional benefits. But it’s something I’ve legitimately loved a movie I’m not sure I’m happy about.
In addition to the work “the unlikely parental figure of a lost child”, there is another increasingly familiar genre. Palmer belongs: the emotionally manipulative Oscar bait in which a reformed homophobe turns into a gay savior. In other words, well-intentioned films that do not trample so much, but abuse, the fine line between human understanding and the exploitation of strange pain.
It is a complicated tension to discuss and there are no easy answers about how to tell these stories or even if there are stories that should be told.
While it is a much superior film, there are notes of Palmer reminiscent of Joe Bell, the Mark Wahlberg drama that premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival this fall, but which was recently moved from the TBD release date later this year. There are also echoes of DROP, the upcoming written film, directed by Viggo Mortensen and starring a gay son who counts his father’s abusive homophobia, as his old age begins to close the window of opportunity for closure.
“It is a complicated tension to discuss and there are no easy answers about how to tell these stories or even if there are stories that should be told.”
The two films are emotionally exhausting stories about tortured but evolving relationships between unacceptable fathers and their gay sons and the scars that persist from such a full bond. Both have the potential to be eye-opening entries in complicated conversations about sexuality and masculinity that could do great good to the audience.
But both films also enter the conversation about who should tell the stories of the marginalized and underrepresented. None of them thank those who are tired of watching the fight for the strange acceptance filtered through the travels of the right characters and made by creative creative teams. This should not completely reduce any of their creative achievements, but it is a worthy consideration.
How to Palmer enter the picture?
Sam is 7 years old. His sexuality is not discussed, obviously – again, he is 7. But identity and gender expression are the basis of his relationships with each character in the film, and especially with Palmer. Those who attack him are described as big. But Sam’s journey, though the catalyst for Palmer’s own, is secondary to it. It is once again a film that is focused on the redemption of the right cis character.
That in itself becomes somewhat of a trope.
Where once the juicy role for a straight actor was the role of the strangely persecuted person, now the character who has a crisis of conscience about their role in persecution is attractive. It is an evolution in the identity politics of the distribution of strange roles, but it still raises the question of the value of this type of story.
There is a presumption that this is something that feels good when, in fact, at least in some respects it hurts. I can’t tell you how inspired it is to see Justin Timberlake playing a tough guy who falls completely in love with and accepting a young man who doesn’t conform to the genre. It means something – in fact, a lot – to have a father figure in the film who wholeheartedly supports a child in this way. But the abuse that Palmer is witnessing and in the audience is triggering, perpetuating and normalizing these things.
It cannot be repeated enough how complicated all this is. Sam is a heroic character and it is so refreshing to watch him present with unbridled confidence, regardless of gender norms. But it is also infallible. It is impossible not to adore him, early and with a good heart. It has to be for a story to work. Perfection is still needed to balance otherness if the public is to board.
It’s nice to see how Palmer and various people in the community support and promote Sam’s interest and identity. He has a healthier education than most, who are constantly silenced, corrected or abused. When you are older, out and proud of a support system, you are famous for your fascination with divas and princesses and cute things. What if we gave children, boys the same permission? What if playing with Barbies wasn’t illegal, a shame?
These questions can be raised in this film, but only because of Palmer’s heroic compassion.
The idea of a savior requires someone who needs salvation. This lack of agency, even in an equally good story, is a continuation of decades of harmful tropics in Hollywood, in which strangers and gender identity are used as props.
I have no doubt that if you have reached this review, you are a person who will be excited about this film. And IM glad. I found it nice to watch this movie and feel warm inside, to feel good about a better future, full of Palmers and Sams.
The fact that the film is so easy to appreciate and emotionally affected is why it also deserves such control. And the most valuable thing he can do is invite the conversation, I hope it sparkles.