IIt could be that many of us are still floating around our feel-good stupor, eager to fuel the high for as long as possible after a four-year plunge into a bottomless emotional and psychological pit. It’s not even positivity or hope that we cling to, but the ability to feel something in a normal way again – to grieve, to grieve, to feel everything from anger to relief and, yes, even joy.
Maybe we didn’t even know we’ve been holding our breath for four years. It wasn’t until we exhaled that we realized that all of these feelings were ready to flow out, the good, the bad, and everything in between. It is a lot of feeling to do! It’s exhausting, but it’s also intoxicating.
And joining that buzz is the new drama starring Justin Timberlake Palmer, and the themes of tolerance, redemption, empathy and the celebration of otherness.
It’s cinematic comfort food at a rare and overdue banquet time for sincerity, goodness, and reminders of the fact that little sparks of humanity still exist. Palmer is, as far as these things go in the world of art and film, genetically engineered to force you … um, I mean late you feel things.
In the film, which will be released on Apple TV + Friday, Timberlake plays an ex-con named Eddie Palmer, who returns to his hometown in the rural south after 12 years of serving a crime to stay with his grandmother Vivian (June Squibb, iconic as ever. ), who raised him. Living in a caravan next door is a nothing-but-problem single mom (Juno Temple) and her 7-year-old son, Sam (newcomer Ryder Allen). Palmer stares at them out the window, sees the mother and son playing with dolls, and raises an eyebrow.
Palmer is surprised one morning to find Sam in the house. His mother left – not for the first time – and, as she has done before, Vivian takes him in. They eat together and go to church together. Vivian lets Sam do her hair and play with her makeup. Sam is remarkably insecure about his behavior, even around Palmer. ‘You know you’re a boy, don’t you? Boys don’t play with dolls, ”says Palmer. “Well, I’m a boy, and I do,” Sam replies with a shrug.
One night when Vivian tragically dies in her sleep, it is left to Palmer to take care of Sam. You would think the two would clash right away. But Palmer sees the ways in which the community, both children and adults, is bullying Sam for his unflappable confidence in himself to want to dress proudly like a princess and have 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 of Palmer is that you’ve seen it before. Her Big Daddy, but seriously. Her About a boy, but the boy is gay. I can’t say how good the filmmakers, including director Fisher Stevens and screenwriter Cheryl Guerriero, were at this formula, but the movie is all the better because it doesn’t stray from it, hitting every known beat with the precision of the strings that go into it. picked the acoustic guitar score you can already hear through my description of this movie.
It detaches the tap from all those previously mentioned pent-up emotions and sprays them with the power of a fire station: a torrent of cathartic appreciation for Sam’s struggle, Palmer’s unselfishness, and their determination to face the bumpy road ahead of us in a cruel way. to see. society.
You will cry, and it will make you feel good. You will be proud of your empathy and your vigilance. That little boy Sam doesn’t deserve a hard life just because he likes girl stuff and lives in a town full of homophobes! It is a film that also serves as a pat on the back for its target audience, and therein lies the small problem.
The reporting is irrefutable. Timberlake, to his credit, is outstanding, a triumphant return to a promising acting career that seemed shaky at one point. All as Sam is a revelation. Palmer is so discernible that you don’t have to pay close attention to it yet you would reap all the emotional benefits. But it’s this thing that I genuinely loved a movie that I’m not sure I’m glad exists.
In addition to the ‘unlikely parental figure of a lost child’ oeuvre, there is another, increasingly well-known genre that Palmer belongs to: the emotionally manipulative Oscar bait in which a reformed homophobe turns into a gay savior. In other words, well-meaning films that don’t so much tread the line between human understanding and exploiting queer pain, but abuse it.
It’s a complicated tension to discuss, and there are no easy answers as to how to tell these stories, or even if they are stories that should be told.
While it is a much better movie, there are notes of it Palmer that are reminiscent of Joe Bell, the Mark Wahlberg drama that premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival this fall, but was recently moved off the release calendar to a date to be determined later this year. There are also echoes of it Fall, the upcoming film written, directed by and starring Viggo Mortensen about a gay son who reckons with his father’s abusive homophobia as his old age begins to close the chance for closure.
“It’s a complicated tension to discuss, and there are no easy answers as to how to tell these stories, or even if they are stories that should be told.“
The two films are emotionally grueling tales of tortured yet evolving relationships between unacceptable fathers and their gay sons, and the scars left by such a fraught bond. They both have the potential to be dazzling entrees in complicated conversations about sexuality and masculinity that can do a lot of good for the audience.
But both films also address the question of who should tell the stories of those who are marginalized and under-represented. Also, don’t satisfy those tired of seeing the battle for queer acceptance filtered through the journeys of straight characters and crafted by straight creative teams. That shouldn’t discount any of their creative achievements altogether, but it’s a worthy consideration.
How works Palmer enter the picture?
Sam is 7 years old. His sexuality is clearly not discussed – again, he’s 7. But gender identity and expression are the foundation of his relationships with every character in the movie, and especially with Palmer. Those who attack him are portrayed as bigots. But Sam’s journey, though the catalyst for Palmer’s, is secondary to it. It’s another movie centered around the redemption of the straight, cis character.
That in itself becomes a bit of a trope.
Where once the juicy role for a heterosexual actor played the persecuted queer, now the character who has a crisis of conscience over their role in the prosecution is attractive. It’s an evolution in the identity politics of casting queer roles, but still begs the question of the value of these kinds of stories.
There is a suspicion that this is a good thing when in fact, at least in some ways, it is doing damage. I can’t tell you how inspiring it is to watch Justin Timberlake play a tough guy who gets completely enamored with and accepts from a gender non-conforming boy. It means something – a lot, really – to have a father figure on film who supports a child wholeheartedly in this way. But the abuse that Palmer is witnessing and witnessed by the public is causing, in no small measure, to perpetuate and normalize those things.
It cannot be repeated enough how complicated all this is. Sam is a heroic character and it’s so refreshing to see him with unbridled confidence regardless of gender norms. But it is also infallible. He is impossible not to worship, precocious and good-hearted. He must be okay for a story like this to work. Perfection is still required to balance otherness if the audience is to come on board.
It is wonderful to see how Palmer and various people in the community support and nurture Sam’s interest and identity. He is being raised healthier than most, who are constantly being silenced, corrected, or abused. When you’re older, out, and proud of a support system, you’re celebrated for your fascination with divas and princesses and beautiful things. But what if we gave children, little boys, the same permission? What if playing with Barbies weren’t illegal, cause for embarrassment?
Those questions may be raised in this film, but only because of Palmer’s own heroic compassion.
The idea of a savior requires someone to be saved. That lack of agency, even in a story that feels as good as this one, is a continuation of decades of damaging Hollywood tropes using queerness and gender identity as props.
I have no doubt that if you got this far in this review, you are a person who will be moved by this movie. And I am happy. It felt nice to watch this movie and feel warm inside, to feel good about a brighter future full of Palmers and Sams.
The fact that the film is so easy to find and is emotionally affected by it is why it deserves such research. And the most valuable thing it can do is invite the conversation, I hope it sparks.