There are few films that I would, without doubt, never watch again; Boy Erased is one of them. This isn’t to say that it’s a bad film – far from it – but it is certainly a harrowing experience for LGBT+ viewers. When I walked into the cinema with my fellow gay friends in tow, I was expecting the film to be an emotional experience, but I wasn’t prepared for just how closely it would hit home. Boy Erased tells an important story. It isn’t overly sensationalised; it tells a very real story, exploring the way in which subtle, rationalised instances of homophobia can chip away at an individual.
The film expertly captured the experiences of an LGBT person grappling with religion. I could see so much of myself in the main character, Jared Eamons, despite our many differences. I wasn’t raised in a religious setting, and my parents barely blinked an eye the first time I told them I was going on a date with a girl. All in all, I’d consider myself pretty fortunate as far as the whole gay acceptance thing goes, but I found Jared’s journey painfully relatable all the same. I saw myself in his struggles with internalised-homophobia; the reservations that plagued his mind, holding him back from accepting himself for who he truly was, they were the same reservations I still contemplate in my weaker moments. I found myself hopelessly lost in the film, feeling utterly exposed and at its mercy as I prayed that it would offer up some source of hope before its conclusion.
Jared’s frustrations and moments of self-hatred resonated with everyone in my party of three – what LGBT+ person hasn’t felt that way at some point? It doesn’t matter how much you love yourself, or tell yourself there’s nothing wrong with what you are, there will always be moments where you can’t help but wish for an easier life. This part of myself – the part I don’t like to think about – this is what I saw reflected in Jared. It is this that makes the viewing experience simultaneously important and challenging.
The film managed to produce this visceral reaction, despite its lack of overwhelming violence or directed hatred at any one individual. It was a far more psychological process than that. I sat there, filled with genuine anger as I watched this boy try to ‘fix’ himself, to cure himself of the one thing I had in common with him. He did so at the encouragement of characters too kind and well-meaning for me to even attempt to hate. They manipulated him into hating himself, all without any intention to harm him – simply because they believed it was right.
With no one person for the viewer to hate or blame for all Jared’s troubles, the film feels all-too real. The result is relentlessly bleak and painful to the point that one of my friends almost walked out of the cinema. She stayed however, as she told me afterwards, because the film felt important for us to see and experience together in an environment where we could support each other – in a way that no one was able to support Jared. And so, we stayed, and we watched the rest of his story. We couldn’t help him; there was no easy solution to him problems and we may have found that difficult, but the least we could do was listen.
Jared’s story ended on a much-needed hopeful note, but the film never lets its audience forget that his experiences would stay with him forever. I found myself in tears as the ending credits rolled. I couldn’t let this thought go – that even though things would get better for Jared, he would continue to struggle all the same, as so many of us still do today. Boy Erased is a harsh reminder that every day as an LGBT+ person is a fight: a fight with the society we live in, a fight with the people around us, and lastly a fight with ourselves.
I would urge every LGBT+ person to go out and see this film in cinemas if they feel emotionally able. Boy Erased provides an in-depth look into an important part of not just our history, but our present too – with conversion therapy remaining legal to this day in many parts of the United States. Boy Erased is a film that everyone should watch at least once in their lifetime – if only once.
TheScreenReview 