Dallas Buyers Club: Affirming, Provoking, Masterful

Occasionally a film socks you in the gut. You stay through the credits, both out of respect for the people who made it and due to the fact that you need a few minutes to re-acclimate to the world. If you’re with a friend or a group, you make a tacit agreement to talk only about the film for at least the next half-hour. You’re not in a hurry to move on to the next activity, and you want to drive without music so as to collect your thoughts. The film has changed you in some immeasurable way and filled you with a suitcase of reflections about existence that will take some time to unpack. I’ve had that experience three times this year: after Fruitvale Station, Short Term 12, and now Dallas Buyers Club. Revolving around one man’s courageous journey during the troubled early years of the AIDS epidemic, the film in short is a masterpiece.

Dallas Buyers Club concerns the life of Ron Woodroof, a proud Texan electrician who, in 1985, resides in a run-down trailer on the outskirts of Dallas and finds his best times at the rodeo, at the bar, and at the open legs of a woman — sometimes more than one. In short order, Ron’s life comes crashing down when, after repeated bouts of fainting, he is informed that he has the HIV virus and can expect to live for 30 more days. In short order, Ron finds himself losing more weight, is evicted from his home, and finally ostracized from his friends for the implication that he has engaged in gay activity, which, as a homophobe himself, is an unbearable accusation. Ron discovers that the hospital offers a drug trial of AZT, the only FDA-pending drug to treat AIDS. After bribing a janitor to get the drug, Ron’s health actually deteriorates. Desperate and at his wit’s end, he travels to Mexico, where he meets an unlicensed doctor who introduces him to unapproved drugs that will rebuild his immune system and allow him to outlast his 30-day death sentence. Ron gets the idea to take the drugs back to Texas, where he can distribute them to other patients as part of a membership plan. With the help of a sympathetic transgender man by the name of Rayon, the Dallas Buyers Club is born.

If the film shares the historical ground covered by How to Survive a Plague and Philadelphia, it finds a novel entry point into the AIDS crisis of the late Eighties and early Nineties; namely, the transformation of Ron Woodroof from aimless, bigoted, vice-ridden cowboy to tireless crusader against the institutional greed of the FDA and the narrow attitudes of his peers. That heart is brought to beating life by the powerhouse performance of Matthew McConaughey, rail-thin at 130 pounds. McConaughey’s attention to capturing every nuance of Ron’s speech, mannerisms, and colorful outlook is nothing short of remarkable, evidently the result of countless hours researching Ron’s interviews and journals. He is matched by Jared Leto, whose triumphant return to acting finds a worthy role in Rayon, a nuanced figure defined by an unsupportive family, drug addiction, and a commitment to looking fashionable at all times. Ron and Rayon make for quite a pair, and the growth of their friendship and mutual admiration makes for possibly the most heartwarming odd couple involving a cowboy since Joe Buck and Ratzo Rizzo. I am reminded of the adage about John Wayne movies, in which the Duke never changes, but rather changes the townspeople with which he comes into contact. Essentially, Ron changes into a figure with the resolve of the Duke; every character is subsequently changed is some way by him. Eve Saks, played with understatement by Jennifer Garner, embodies the struggles of good doctors in a system ruled by faceless bureaucracy. She accepts Ron’s gift, a painting depicting flowers by his deceased gypsy mother, but hangs it askew after angrily hammering holes into her wall. After a quiet moment on the DBC stairs, in which Ron admits that he would like to trade lives with someone, she reassures him of his worth. Shortly thereafter, she straightens the painting, allowing its beauty to shine.

The narrative is bookended by scenes at the rodeo: the first, where Ron engages in a sexual dalliance in a shadowy corner, the final, where Ron gets in the light of the saddle and prepares to ride. It makes a fitting metaphor for Ron’s journey — to grab the horns, however unfair his lot in life, and embraces his mission. The production of the film was marked by similar perseverance. Screenwriter Craig Borten wrote the script back in 1992, after extensive interviews with the real Woodroof. Following many false starts and thanks largely to the devotion of producer Robbie Brenner, the script finally found its way into the hands of McConaughey, who committed to the role and undertook a severe regimen to lose weight. From there, the limited financing fell into place, and Jean-Marc Vallée, the Québécois director known for The Young Victoria and Café de Flore, came on board, making his American debut in a film that highlights the ‘country’ of Texas.

Valleé and cinematography Yves Bélanger shot the film using almost exclusively natural light, which lends itself alternately to capturing the gritty, sparse, and authentic nature of the locations. The film also has no score and very little period music, which may have been motivated by a small budget for licensing rights, but has the effect of capturing the Eighties without nostalgia or affectation. And the performances — oh, the performances. These are two career-defining parts for McConaughey and Leto, and they deserve all the accolades they are sure to receive. Of the numerous other versions of Dallas Buyers Club, which might have been made in the last 20 years, I believe this one is the best, a product of an intense struggle which mirrored its subject matter. If you want to see a life-affirming, challenging, thought-provoking film, Dallas Buyers Club fulfills those criteria and more, and it will likely stay with you long after you have left the theater.