the m0vie blog

This film was seen as part of the Jameson Dublin International Film Festival 2015.

Boychoir hits just about every emotional note that you would expect it to.

Of course, it hits those notes in ways that feel incredibly contrived and emotionally manipulative. Director François Girard and writer Ben Ripley are incredibly cynical in how they choose to resonate with the audience. The script and the direction for Boychoir is advanced with an almost ruthless pragmatism, a pragmatism that is not afraid to kill of relatives to generate tragedy and which is willing to gloss over any real or tangible emotional reactions to get the film to the point that is most coldly calculated to affect the viewer.

Boychoir very much goes through the motions for a film like this. It is a coming of age story set inside a highly competitive environment, juxtaposing a rather working class protagonist with those who have enjoyed privilege from a very young age. It is the story Stet Tate, a young boy who finds himself joining the National Boychoir; who quickly and inevitably discovers that his voice is a rare gift, and discovering exactly where that gift can take him and what it will teach him along the way.

Boychoir is a competent execution of a bunch of familiar tropes, albeit one that never strives for loftier goals. It is sappy and manipulative, but – given it aims to be sappy and manipulative – it is hard to treat that as a scathing criticism.

There are a few moments where Boychoir seems like it might be more than it actually is. There is a point almost half-way through the film where it seems like Girard is actually having fun with the material. Our protagonist has found himself beginning to succeed in the field, which causes genuine upset to characters who had previously enjoyed focus and attention. As such, this leads to the inevitable attempts to sabotage our lead character. Boychoir goes through these motions with a practised ease.

Still, there is a sense that Boychoir embraces the absurdity of the situation. When Stet discovers that he has been undermined, the camera cuts back to his saboteur. Not only has the saboteur managed to sneak back stage without anybody noticing his presence, but he has also thrown on a dark hooded coat and been practising his “demon child” stare. Our would-be bully is presented not as a stock upper-class entitled brat, but as a character who escaped from Don’t Look Now. Unfortunately, the rest of Boychoir adopts a rather less heightened and more banal approach.

Boychoir doesn’t even try to conceal its manipulations. Film is the art of audience manipulation; it is about trying to make the audience respond to what is essentially a sequence of recorded pictures and sounds. The problem is not so much that Boychoir is blatantly manipulative, the problem is that there is no art to the manipulation. It all appears so rote and so familiar that the transparency of the effect draws attention away from the effect itself. The plot beats are so obviously intended to generate a particular response, that the obviousness (rather than the effect) is noticed.

Indeed, Boychoir seems positively trite when compared to something like Whiplash. The movie meditates on some of the same ideas, albeit with a more obviously inspirational and less intense outlook. Stet confronts the fact that he has a gift, and one of his teacher repeatedly stresses that he has a duty and obligation to respect that gift. More than that, Stet is faced with the prospect that this gift comes with its own costs and limitations. His voice will break at some point, his gift will be lost to the ages.

Boychoir is much to generic to really dig into any of these ideas. Dustin Hoffman plays Master Carvelle, the teacher are the school who takes an immediate dislike to Stet. He quite clearly believes that music is something sacred, and that Stet is not willing to commit himself to the furtherance of his gift. Indeed, Boychoir even offers its own variation on the opening scene of Whiplash around the half-way point, albeit without the same bleakness and cynicism. Carvelle overhears Stet playing, only to make a dramatic exit because Stet isn’t serious enough.

However, this being the movie that it is, Carvelle eventually and gradually softens on Stet. It isn’t that his cold exterior masks deep reserves of compassion and kindness; instead, Carvelle is completely and unreservedly won over by the final credits. There is no room for ambiguity or nuance. That is precisely the sort of movie that Boychoir is. It is a film that is incredibly blunt in what it wants to be and how it wants to be about it, and that includes forsaking any hint of subtlety or shading.

Still, Boychoir does what it sets out to do reasonably well. Girard has assembled an impressive troupe of actors to bring his script to life. Dustin Hoffman gives the film a bit more depth than it really deserves, even if it feels like he’s simply blowing the dust off his Mr. Bergstrom character from Lisa’s Substitute by the time that the end credits role around. (There is even a sweet and simple letter written to the protagonist.) Kathy Bates is always fun (and funny) while Eddie Izzard is suitably arch and cynical. (“If you have to cheat… cheat better.”)

Boychoir is trite and manipulative, but it is very good at being trite and manipulative. It ultimately sings the same old song, but at least it sings it well.

All audience members are asked to rank films in the festival from 1 (worst) to 4 (best). In the interest of full and frank disclosure, here is my score: 3

Filed under: Non-Review Reviews | Tagged: boychoir, film, Movie, non-review review, review |