About A Boy is a 2002 drama about a cynical, immature young man who is taught how to act like a grown-up by a little boy.
Back in 1994, Hugh Grant sort of erupted on the celebrity scene with his appearance in the Brit comedy Four Weddings and a Funeral, even though he’d been doing his thing for ten years already in television and movies. Not exactly an overnight success, but here he was, and oh how Hollywood embraced him (audiences, too). His unkempt good looks, savy British accent, bedroom eyes, and truckloads of charm had fans craving more, and goodness, he certainly obliged, starring in a string of movies where he churned his lovable self into a box office goldmine.
By 2002, he was an A-lister headliner with roles in several genre-defining turns of the era, winning critics and fans with films like Sense and Sensibilities, Love, Actually and of course, the smash hit romance with Julia Roberts, Notting Hill. So it was that finding him in the film adaptation of the Nick Hornby novel About a Boy was not all that surprising, the role of a devilishly handsome, womanizing, loner flipped by the influence of an awkward young boy to be a better man a good fit.
The story is set in London, where subtlety-be-damned named Will Freeman (Grant) is living a posh life. His father, in the late 1950s, wrote a pop Christmas song that has been netting Will lucrative royalties ever since, leaving him free to pretty much do whatever he wants. To that end, he’s never worked a day in his life, has a nice place filled with cool toys, and does everything he can to get laid by beautiful women. He’s hopelessly shallow of course, and openly strives to be so, flat out refusing to be a godfather to a newborn baby because he’s just not going to be good at it. At least he’s honest, I guess.
Meanwhile, there is Marcus Brewer (Nicholas Hoult), a young teenager with some serious mom issues. She is Fiona (Toni Collette), a terribly depressed woman who can’t get hold of her life, coddling her son like he’s still a little kid. He mostly comes home to her wallowing in uncontrollable tears. Worse, Marcus is bullied at school for his old clothes and weird behavior, such as spontaneously singing in class. Even his last two nerdy friends kick him to the curb.
So how could Will and Marcus possibly meet? Well, through a pretty young woman of course. Will, classless as he is, crashes a support group for single parents, hoping to scout out attractive girls with children, a combination he’s found to be rife with sexual exploitation. I said classless, right? Sure enough, he makes a date, having lied that he has his own child, and discovers that this woman is also taking care of Marcus for her sick friend Fiona. However, Marcus takes a liking to Will, and is begins visiting him at his flat. A friendship grows and soon enough, there is evolution between the two, a few conflicts and then hooray, a happy end for all. Oh, um, spoilers.
The larger success of About a Boy is in fact the casting of Grant, who seems diecast for the part. He’s smarmy and entirely unlikable at first, which is a hard thing to feel toward a person you instantly want to like. Grant has this built-in vulnerability that gives the character a visible escape hatch, where we already see his destiny, even if he doesn’t. We know full well where it’s all going to go, but cling to Will and his learning adventures with glee, happy to see him experience the myriad bumps in the road that soon shape him like fine sandpaper.
Hoult is also very good, a particularly interesting vibe about him that really works in establishing him as ‘different’ from the rest with his bowl haircut and 60s hand-me-down wardrobe. He and Grant are a perfect match with neither wringing too much out of the sappy potential they come invested with. It’s fun to watch them play off each other, the film smartly written so that we understand how growth comes to both without it being hammered over our heads.
So, where does it go wrong? Well, it’s an old quibble, but one all too often movies lean upon. The film begins with Will, in narration, talking to us … and well … that’s it. The problem. Narration. It’s terrible. And look, I’m not entirely against narration if it works with purpose, or, better yet, is made clever. Hornby’s previous book made into a film was the John Cusack drama High Fidelity, and it too featured what could be called ‘narration,’ but director Stephen Frears fixed the leaks by having the main character talk directly to the screen in a bit of super smart fourth wall breakery (homaging Woody Allen perhaps) that accomplished everything narration could do yet pulled us right into the story as well. Dang, that’s a good movie.
Here, in About a Boy, though, narration is a weak choice that spoils so much of the experience, especially since just about everything being said is clearly visible right there on screen. And it’s everywhere, with both Will and Marcus constantly talking over the screen about what they are thinking or offering commentary on what is happening while we watch, often in the same scene. It’s dreadful and honestly, a little insulting, mostly because it feels like the movie doesn’t trust us to be able to do the emotional stichery on our own.
How much better would this be if we could have learned all this just by what we see and hear in dialogue, which, um, yeah, we actually do. We see and hear in dialogue everything we need to learn. Them telling us again in bland voiceover is akin to the filmmakers running over the movie with a big red magic marker saying to the audience: “See how we are connecting the dots?”
Don’t get me wrong. I really like About a Boy (and the book is good, too). I’ve seen it a handful of times and so enjoy the characters and the bonds these people make. It’s a very cool thing that such real authenticity emerges from these moments, especially with the potential for silliness to arise. Sure, the finale is a wee bit contrived, but I’m willing to buy that ticket because I am invested already in where Will and Marcus are taking me. Narration is a blemish, but it doesn’t completely spoil the rewards.