The Peanut Butter Falcon, has Zak (Zack Gottsagen) run away from his nursing home, and go on the lam, to meet his wrestling hero, the Salt Water Redneck. Zak has Down syndrome, placed in a nursing home after being abandoned by his parents, and the state having nowhere else to house him. He quickly runs into Tyler (Shia LeBeouf), a grumpy boatsman at a loss with the world since his older brother passed away. Tyler discovers Zak as a stowaway, and decides Zak can accompany him out of town if he isn’t annoying, but pretty quickly, Tyler comes to truly care for his new friend. Hot on their tail, is Eleanor (Dakota Johnson), Zak’s carer, desperate to bring him back safely, and a couple of fishermen Tyler has really pissed off by destroying their business. Directed by Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz, the film also features Thomas Hayden Church, Bruce Dern and Jon Bernthal.
As soon as the movie finished, I had to look it up to see if there was any mention of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn in The Peanut Butter Falcon’s production. There had to be, considering a big portion of this movie takes place on a raft and that Tyler makes a jab to Eleanor about being in a Mark Twain story. Guess where my biggest familiarity with the story of Huckleberry Finn comes from? Family Guy (oh yeah!). But I’m well aware of how famous that book is, and its strong connotations on the relationship between white and black folks. Obviously in the original story, Jim is treated as a ‘nigger’, and here, Zak is referred to as a ‘retard’. The Peanut Butter Falcon is a perfect example of the power of film, to find affective symbology, to educate, and provide new ideas that could alter perceptions in a big way. I appreciate the suggestion of a similar stigma between racism and that of the handicapped. At the start of the film, Zak is locked in a nursing home because there are no places to facilitate his type of disability outside one that’s primary care is the elderly; that’s really sad, and I think it’s an oversight of the way we setup our society. This seems like something we need to fix.
Tyler might start out by burning his rival’s fishing supplies, but his words are pure white. He even lectures Eleanor on mollycoddling Zak instead of believing in his capabilities. Zak is so lucky to have found Tyler, because it could have gone so differently; Zak could have jumped from that pier into the ocean and it could have been the last we ever saw of him. Not only does Tyler talk to Zak with respect, but he takes his own initiative to put in the time to teach him to swim, and assist his wrestling training. Their relationship is beautiful; they discuss what makes a good person and what makes a bad person – it’s the heart they’re born with and nothing beyond that. He teaches Zak that not everything is going to be possible for him, just like everyone else in the world, but he has God-given strengths and desires, just like everyone else in the world. The differences between them, whilst perceptible, are also superficial.
This is the easiest money Jon Bernthal has ever made – the bloke just has to be chummy and laugh along with Shai LeBeouf’s character in a few scenes that come to us in flashbacks. I would welcome a prequel if it meant having LeBeouf and Bernthal together – write that story, someone, make it happen. LeBeouf and Johnson must relish the opportunity to be in such charitable work that has come together so poignantly without being pretentious. Since this is an older film, that came out in 2019 in most places, I’m pretty sure audiences saw The Peanut Butter Falcon before Honey Boy, but both affirm to me that LeBeouf’s path to personal redemption is on the right track; the heart that comes through his craft is in the right place. I’m happy for him.
The ending of this movie is a little bit Little Miss Sunshine; stretching the fantastical to stamp down on a point already eloquently made. I had a big smile on my face at least four or five times, reflecting the characters that be in awe of Zak realising his dreams. This film is lovely, set to a picturesque backdrop of cornfields and lakes. There’s hardly a thing to hate about this movie, and if you find one, it’s not worth it.
4.5.
Finally, a story my Dad told me that he heard on the radio about The Peanut Butter Falcon – a caller said he saw this movie at the cinema, and there was a mother with a Down syndrome boy sitting in front of him. At the sight of Zak, the boy became ecstatic shouting, “He’s like me! He’s like me!” Here’s a remarkable argument for the positivity of joyous representation. I’m totally glad this movie exists just for that moment.
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