Ryan Gosling and Shareeka Epps make Half Nelson a quietly affecting drama about a teacher’s addiction and an uneasy friendship. Its political passages are less persuasive, but the performances give us ample reason to stay.
The prospect of a teacher dependent on crack befriending one of his pupils invites several kinds of bad film. There could be a lesson in tolerance, a warning about drugs, or a child put to work repairing an adult. Ryan Fleck’s Half Nelson is a fine drama because it treats the relationship as difficult even when the two people involved mean well. We recommend it for Ryan Gosling and Shareeka Epps, whose performances keep the friendship interesting when the writing becomes thin.
Gosling plays Dan Dunne without reducing him to a list of symptoms. His ease with the character is important: Dan remains someone another person might want to spend time with, which makes his difficulties harder to dismiss. Gosling does not turn every moment into an invitation to pity him, and his restraint leaves us room to feel uneasy about a man we like. Fleck and co-writer Anna Boden let Dan be sympathetic without excusing him.
Epps is just as important, and the film would be considerably poorer if Drey existed only to observe Dan. Her guarded responses make us conscious of the effort involved in deciding how much of herself to offer him. We were moved by her watchfulness, because Epps makes Drey’s concern for Dan look like something that requires effort. Drey’s reactions matter, and Epps makes sure we wait for them.
Andrij Parekh’s cinematography makes the restrained acting readable without turning every hesitation into a major event. Faces are interesting enough here, and the photography trusts that. Beth Mickle’s production design also helps the everyday surroundings feel occupied, allowing our attention to stay with the people rather than their circumstances. That unobtrusive approach suits a story asking us to notice small changes in how two people regard each other, although it gives the actors a considerable amount to carry.
Boden, who also edits, gives the two leads time to register each other’s uncertainty. The pace mostly suits their caution, although a few stretches feel held over for a depth the writing has not quite supplied. Kevin Drew’s music belongs to the same low-key approach, and we appreciate its reluctance to make the friendship sound grander than it is. A little tightening would help the scenes in which neither character has much new to offer the other.
The larger weakness comes when Fleck and Boden try to connect the personal troubles to political history. The Civil Rights interludes are worth attending to, but the film is less clear about what they add to Dan and Drey’s relationship. We can understand why the writers want to look beyond these two people; we still need those wider concerns to affect their story more decisively. Too often, a passage about history interrupts the people we have been getting to know.
The familiar teacher-and-pupil drama comes with an expectation of progress, and Fleck is right to make us question it. He also avoids treating the wish to help another person as foolish, however ill-equipped Dan may be. Gosling and Epps are persuasive enough to sustain these 107 minutes through the occasional lull. Choose Half Nelson for an evening when neither of you needs to be reassured that people can sort themselves out.
