The Adderall DiariesTo justify our suffering, we hold those who have hurt us--even those we only believe hurt us--to be the worst monsters we know. An opening passage to The Adderall Diaries--adapted for the screen by Pamela Romanowsky from the book by Stephen Elliott of the same name--intimates as much about the complex relationship between the traumas we remember and how they actually happened. Stephen Elliott (played by James Franco) is a successful writer who exploits moments of abuse at the hands of his father, Neil (Ed Harris), for book material--a man he claims died years ago. When Neil shows up at a book reading, Stephen is forced to confront the fiction he has made of his life.
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The Adderall Diaries opens with a montage of a onetime happy home which--if the flashback is to be believed--collapsed after Stephen's mother died of cancer and his father ran off with a new woman to start a new family, one that didn't include him. Stephen remembers harrowing events like his father trying to drown him in a bathtub and shaving his long, black hair, or the time daddy dearest handcuffed him to a pipe hanging from the ceiling--an image right out of a how-to guide on torture. But "remember" is the operative word here; even before Neil makes his presence known at the overly pretentious debut of the next installment in Stephen's serial of abuse, there is something disingenuous about the writer that calls into question the verisimilitude of it all--about Stephen as a person, as a character, and even the world of The Adderall Diaries. Consider Stephen: he is beloved by his fans, on the cusp of a major publishing deal with Penguin, and lives in an altogether too pristine, spacious New York City loft apartment. He is handsome, fit, and even charming. He rides around the city--remarkably free of traffic for NYC--on his vintage café racer motorcycle, looking the part of a James Dean rebel in his black leather jacket, with his stylish thin beard and wraparound sunglasses. (He even knows how to make Eggs Benedict the right way!) The fact that he has a drug problem and hires alarmingly pretty prostitutes to indulge his S&M fantasies seem like mere idiosyncrasies compared to what is altogether a charmed life for this "Mary Sue" character. Just as Stephen's portrayal of his past is an exaggeration born from his narcissistic resistance to face his own faults and transgressions, the character of "Stephen" is also "too good to be true". This actually adds layers to The Adderall Diaries, because it leaves the audience with the persistent, unanswered question as to how much of any story told to us can be believed. Almost every beat in Stephen's life comes across like a cliche, from his rocky relationship with his estranged father, to the steamy romance he forms with the pretty but rebellious fellow writer and journalist, Lana Edmond (Amber Heard), to his raunchy childhood buddy, Roger (Jim Parrack), whose "grown up" into a family man (even if his design choices for custom pancakes raises concerns about his parenting skills). It is as though Stephen has made himself a prisoner in his own story from the walls he has erected to protect himself from facing his fears of disillusionment, loss, guilt, and every other ugly emotion--a subtle kind of madness.
Despite the previous cynical assessment of the life and times of (the character of) Stephen Elliott, The Adderall Diaries is a story about humility, even if it is dragged kicking and screaming. Stephen indulges his literary ego with his fascination in the recent murder trial of Hans Reiser (Christian Slater), who claims that in addition to not killing his wife, that what he had (or hadn't) done was done for the sake of his children. Stephen latches onto this sentiment and tries to emulate (read: steal from) writers before him--like Truman Capote with "In Cold Blood"--and exploit the trial for his own personal glory and fame; and this is how he meets Lana in the first place. At first, things are perfect for Stephen and Lana--when they're hot, they're hot. They share interests in tattoos and writing. Lana shares her past with Stephen after he is humiliated at his reading by Neil, telling him about how she tried to kill her stepfather with pills. Lana represents the perfect accessory to Stephen's persona of the rebellious literary darling who needs to be prodded to meet his deadlines by his editor, Jen (Cynthia Nixon). They spend their days strolling down the streets of the Big Apple with Starbucks in their hands and smiles on their lips; nights include partying in bars before stumbling back home to play beneath the sheets. When Stephen subtly manipulates Lana into choking him as a part of a macabre form of foreplay, she understands how dangerous her relationship with him is--not just physically, but psychologically--and leaves him. When Stephen tries to return a necklace he remembered Roger gave him after he overdosed as a kid, Roger corrects him, citing that Stephen stole the necklace and conveniently forgot about it. When Stephen is feeling sorry for himself about his unresolved anger for his dad, Roger opines that it may be better for him to consider it from Neil's point of view with the wisdom of adulthood; unable to cope with having his worldview challenged, Stephen condescends to him and causes a rift in their long-time friendship. Stephen's encounters with his father are difficult to read at first, because both men have the same tendency to deny the reality of past events, letting their unreliable memories of past events dictate their futures. Neil brings a box for Stephen is filled with relics of happier days gone by, initiating a journey down memory lane that is also a proverbial "road to Damascus", forcing father and son to redress the past and admit the truth in all its unvarnished ugliness. When Stephen confronts Hans behind bars, he does so to understand the mindset of a father (like his own) who could do something violent and yet claim it was in the interests of the family, and is forced to accept that Hans was--like Stephen--using this as a pretext to validate his own anger and rage. This revelation forces Stephen to accept his own shortcomings, and the responsibility he bears in reconstituting the relationships in his life not for any reason other than that it is the right thing to do. He comes to accept that despite his professed love for Lana, she does not love him, and to pretend otherwise will only foster more hatred. Stephen concludes that he must actually say "I'm sorry" to Roger for his act of contrition to have any meaning and for their friendship to be repaired. And coming to terms with his father becomes the metaphorical equivalent to resetting broken bones--a painful yet necessary part of the healing process that cleanses his soul and recalls the adage that forgiveness is divine.
Recommended for: Fans of a drama about the ease with which we exaggerate the memories of past trespasses against us and the grudges we cling to like a shibboleth--and how we use anger to insulate ourselves from the pain, which only corrodes our grasp on reality.
Despite the previous cynical assessment of the life and times of (the character of) Stephen Elliott, The Adderall Diaries is a story about humility, even if it is dragged kicking and screaming. Stephen indulges his literary ego with his fascination in the recent murder trial of Hans Reiser (Christian Slater), who claims that in addition to not killing his wife, that what he had (or hadn't) done was done for the sake of his children. Stephen latches onto this sentiment and tries to emulate (read: steal from) writers before him--like Truman Capote with "In Cold Blood"--and exploit the trial for his own personal glory and fame; and this is how he meets Lana in the first place. At first, things are perfect for Stephen and Lana--when they're hot, they're hot. They share interests in tattoos and writing. Lana shares her past with Stephen after he is humiliated at his reading by Neil, telling him about how she tried to kill her stepfather with pills. Lana represents the perfect accessory to Stephen's persona of the rebellious literary darling who needs to be prodded to meet his deadlines by his editor, Jen (Cynthia Nixon). They spend their days strolling down the streets of the Big Apple with Starbucks in their hands and smiles on their lips; nights include partying in bars before stumbling back home to play beneath the sheets. When Stephen subtly manipulates Lana into choking him as a part of a macabre form of foreplay, she understands how dangerous her relationship with him is--not just physically, but psychologically--and leaves him. When Stephen tries to return a necklace he remembered Roger gave him after he overdosed as a kid, Roger corrects him, citing that Stephen stole the necklace and conveniently forgot about it. When Stephen is feeling sorry for himself about his unresolved anger for his dad, Roger opines that it may be better for him to consider it from Neil's point of view with the wisdom of adulthood; unable to cope with having his worldview challenged, Stephen condescends to him and causes a rift in their long-time friendship. Stephen's encounters with his father are difficult to read at first, because both men have the same tendency to deny the reality of past events, letting their unreliable memories of past events dictate their futures. Neil brings a box for Stephen is filled with relics of happier days gone by, initiating a journey down memory lane that is also a proverbial "road to Damascus", forcing father and son to redress the past and admit the truth in all its unvarnished ugliness. When Stephen confronts Hans behind bars, he does so to understand the mindset of a father (like his own) who could do something violent and yet claim it was in the interests of the family, and is forced to accept that Hans was--like Stephen--using this as a pretext to validate his own anger and rage. This revelation forces Stephen to accept his own shortcomings, and the responsibility he bears in reconstituting the relationships in his life not for any reason other than that it is the right thing to do. He comes to accept that despite his professed love for Lana, she does not love him, and to pretend otherwise will only foster more hatred. Stephen concludes that he must actually say "I'm sorry" to Roger for his act of contrition to have any meaning and for their friendship to be repaired. And coming to terms with his father becomes the metaphorical equivalent to resetting broken bones--a painful yet necessary part of the healing process that cleanses his soul and recalls the adage that forgiveness is divine.
Recommended for: Fans of a drama about the ease with which we exaggerate the memories of past trespasses against us and the grudges we cling to like a shibboleth--and how we use anger to insulate ourselves from the pain, which only corrodes our grasp on reality.