In the past few years, school shootings have become synonymous with the culture of America. There’s a sickness to the idea that politicians, CEOs, and billionaires, who are all in the same circle, profit off the tragedies of young people’s deaths. To open this review with seething anger is almost an understatement, solely because a film like this should be dissected into a million pieces.
Our Hero Balthazar is a satirical black comedy about a young, rich, privileged white kid named Balthazar (Jaeden Martell), or Balthy, as some of the adults call him. Balthy, for short, doesn’t have a life purpose. His mother, Nicole (Jennifer Ehle), hires a life coach named Anthony (Noah Centineo) to guide him toward normality. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work. Instead, Balthy creates a troll-like scenario where he is forced to confess his disgust with being taught how to be a “man” in a society that treats men in wildly different ways. Take that as you will, but the viral TikTok clip from this film where Balthy says Anthony “raped” him completely represents the vibe of the movie. It’s an assault on the senses that challenges audiences to explore the sadism of modern masculine America.
The juxtaposition slowly turns toward Solomon (Asa Butterfield), a poor Southern redneck who is broke and barely scraping by. When his father, Beaver (Chris Bauer), returns to town, their reunion quickly turns dismissive. Beaver sells male supplements that are supposed to level up your balls and testosterone. Solomon takes the opportunity to “prove” his worth as a man by selling the supplements in exchange for something he’s been chasing his whole life, basically his father’s love.
To really appreciate what this film is trying to do, you have to understand the territory it’s exploring. At its main core, the film is pulling apart the extravagant expressions of male rage in America, particularly when it comes to men being unable to communicate through vulnerability, crying, or empathy. The intertwined nature of Balthy and Solomon is quite brilliant on paper. They’re both stuck in a rut, and when Balthy, out of pure desperation, decides to leave his privileged life in New York City and head South to meet Solomon, he hopes to understand what it’s like to be an outsider in a world where the attention economy is everything.
Oscar Boyson’s direction teeters between 4chan-inspired cringe humor and the sensibilities of alternative comedians like Adam Friedland or Stavros Halkias. Basically, it’s Cum Town: The Movie, but gay and Chinese. You’ll get the reference if you’ve heard the podcast before. It’s edgy with a purpose, and seeing this film in a theater packed with a bunch of weirdos was awe-inspiring. The experience felt complete because Boyson was in attendance for the screening. Afterwards, I got to ask him about how the film is tyring to reach to audiences through the viral TikToks of Jaeden Martell playing Balthy as if he’s a real person.
@calebwsimpson @Our Hero, Balthazar
That, more than anything, sold me on this film. Watching Jaeden Martell fully commit to playing a simp incel who wants to “get mad bitches” but has absolutely no idea where to start is both hilarious and deeply unsettling. He’s playing the Seinfeld bit to 100%.
I should also highlight that Jaeden Martell and Asa Butterfield deliver, quite frankly, the finest performances of their careers so far. Jaden takes this character with such precision and really taps into how fractured the male psyche feels right now in society. Balthy frees himself from the life of being rich to become poor alongside Solomon, and there’s a genuine sense of camaraderie between them despite coming from two completely different worlds. They’re united by masculine rage and a slight sense of homoeroticism.
That latter point comes through in the film’s depiction of gun violence. The movie is largely about how men use guns to communicate feelings they can’t otherwise express. At the same time, they’re insecure about how they perform around both men and women. Solomon wants to woo the girl of his dreams at the gas station where he works, but Taylor (Anna Baryshnikov) calls the manager because he’s acting like a child. He’s obsessed with a knock-off Danny Phantom television show and even tries to show Taylor one of his father’s porno videos off screen to confess his love for her. Every bit of it is painfully cringe, and it inevitably blows up in everyone’s face.
The same emotional dysfunction infects Balthazar’s relationship with his love interest, Eleanor (Pippa Knowles), after Solomon sends Balthy a mass shooting video early in the film. Both men are completely lost when it comes to connecting with women. They don’t know how to begin conversations, and they certainly don’t know how to end them. To me, that’s one of the key ideas behind this fucked-up film. It’s about the sheer ignorance of the men and how men truly need each other in order to survive in this wretched world. Then yet again, I’m gay and NOT Chinese and I do need a man to be validated in this world, romantically speaking. Anyways, I obviously don’t condone the actions these men take or partake in this film. But I do believe there’s a time and place to satirize these kinds of scenarios, and that’s exactly what I want from a film like this. I want something that provokes feelings of humanity while simultaneously taking a knife to those same feelings through satire.
Throwing it back to the idea of performative activism, every character in this film is trying to perform for a world that’s always watching. Everyone is acting for the camera. Balthy fake cries in his Instagram videos because he wants validation as a man from the very beginning. Women in the Balthy Cinematic Universe seem drawn toward men who loudly perform for certain causes. Some people really are like that, and both Oscar Boyson and producer Ricky Camilleri highlighted that understanding during the Q&A after the screening.
There’s a genuine fear surrounding performative activism in the so-called “civilized” parts of America, coming from both the fringe left and the fringe right. For transparency sake, I’m a leftist (shit-socialist if you will). I agree with many of the goals of freeing ourselves from the capitalistic hellscape we currently live in. At the same time, I recognize the dangers of performative activism, especially when conversations about gun violence become more about appearances than actual, tangible solutions. It’s hard to believe we’re going to solve America’s gun problem through symbolic gestures alone. Once you get into parts of the South, many of the laws meant to protect people become loose, inconsistent, or barely enforced. Even in this film, the flex of having of a gun is somewhat tied to masculinity. As defiantly showcased through Solomon’s affirmation of trying to start a school shooting so, he can feel seen. At the same time, I reject the performative theatrics of the far right because they actively push toward neo-fascist policies that strip rights away from marginalized communities. That’s an entirely different discussion, but the film wisely understands that both spectacle and outrage have become commodities in the attention economic landscape we live in right now.
Oscar Boyson again is fully aware of all of this, and he elevates these themes to new-found heights. He speaks in the language of young people and those of us who are terminally online. If you’ve ever doom-scrolled through 4chan in the early 2010s, you’ll immediately understand the first few minutes of this movie. For that reason alone, I genuinely believe this is one of the boldest films I’ve seen all year, aside from Blue Film, which I might write about later.
Even by the end, Our Hero Balthazar leaves us with one central question.
Who is the hero in this story?
What does it actually take to become one?
And why does someone have to stand up for themselves even when everything around them has completely fallen apart from the graces of society?
Maybe we should show the realities of gun violence more openly so people understand what’s truly at stake. Maybe we should create more spaces where men can express themselves through therapy, community, or genuine third places. Maybe we should deconstruct masculinity at a time when so many men feel alienated because of their interests or insecurities. Maybe we should find ways for men to navigate life without resorting to insufferable violence.
Every one of those ideas is filtered through satire, and that edge will inevitably turn people away with this film. But honestly, fuck the people who dismiss this film without engaging with what it’s actually trying to say. I sat there in complete disbelief while watching it, and I’m genuinely glad it’s resonating with so many young people across America and around the world. The viral TikToks absolutely sold me on the movie, but they also convinced me that independent filmmaking can still break through the walls of commercialism.
Also, Asa Butterfield’s whole body looking like a cub absolutely sent me to another dimension. That man is hot, and I will not let anyone tell me otherwise.