I bailed on Kat Chandler‘s Hellion, which everyone seems to admire, at roughly the one-hour mark. This is the kind of earnestly grungy indie that critics like Guy Lodge fall for or write about with some admiration, and which I want to escape from as soon as possible. I hate dealing with the problems of pissed-off, under-educated, lower-middle-class types. They’re not my kind of people. I didn’t give a damn about the anger or the pain or the bleachy color or the buzzing dirt bikes. I didn’t care about the characters or their problems or the cops or the social services lady…include me out.
The hell-bent Jacob, played by young Josh Wiggins…sorry, man. The angry, alcoholic, widowed dad played by HE nemesis Aaron Paul (who grew a beard and gained weight for the role — his head is shaped like a basketball)…later. Juliette Lewis is agreeably humane as the sister of Paul’s absent wife, but otherwise I wanted to put this hellish environment behind me as quickly as possible. It gave me a damn headache.