White Boy Rick is the follow-up to Yann Demange’s 2014 debut, ‘71, a terrific barebones thriller about a soldier stuck behind enemy lines that uses the Troubles as a backdrop. White Boy Rick, which is written by Andy Weiss, Logan Miller, and Noah Miller, also tells a story of epic scope through an intimate lens. This time, we’re in Detroit, at the height of Reagan’s war on drugs, but through the experience of a real life figure, Richard Wershe Jr., who went by the nickname, White Boy Rick. In the film, we follow Rick (Richie Merritt), as he goes from street hustler working beside his dad, Richard Wershe Sr. (Matthew McConaughey), to FBI informant, to drug kingpin, all while being in his late teens.
Taking all the right lessons from his experience with ‘71, Demange knows how to create a sense of place, showing Detroit as this cavalcade of poverty, slums, and crime. It’s a story about the way American culture feeds into the class divide, how the poor are seen as expendable by the system, and they are also failed by capitalism. It’s ideas and themes that have been explored before, especially in other crime epics, but Demange knows to hit each beat for maximum effect. The filmmaking here is immediate, it’s fierce, and it’s gritty and grimy in ways that movies rarely are nowadays. The period detail is mostly understated, not calling too much attention to itself, aside from the multiple neon-lit roller skating rink scenes, which I certainly won’t complain about. It definitely cements Demange as a real deal talent behind the camera.
The film doesn’t have the same level of efficiency and economy of ‘71, though, it is still thankfully kept just under two hours. Demange allows himself to meander and mellow out for several moments, which could be seen as a flaw, but I thought it added to the characters quite a bit. It’s the kind of film where even side characters are so well drawn, you can imagine them living full lives when they’re not on screen, it’s a film rich with nuance and empathy, and those moments of indulgence are there to to punctuate that idea.
Merritt makes a strong debut here. He feels authentic, he’s rough around the edges, in all the right ways, he has that teenage arrogance, and he is able not only hold his own among industry vets like McConaughey, Bruce Dern, Piper Laurie, and Jennifer Jason Leigh, but he also carries the film well whenever those folks aren’t on screen, which is not an easy feat. It’s a sensitive and at times, quietly powerful performance, and the same can be said of McConaughey, who – despite making great use of his classic swagger – leans on his less bombastic impulses, showing the pain of being a father who struggles in coming to terms with his failures.
White Boy Rick benefits greatly from not relying on the same rise-and-fall formula we’ve seen in many other crime epics. This isn’t trying to be another Scorsese knock-off, it’s not trying to copy Goodfellas or anything like that. It does feel different enough from previous stories like this. And while it still lacks a little something (that I can’t quite put my finger on) that prevents it from being some kind of classic, it’s still a really impressive piece of work that aims its fury square at broken system that keeps the poor in a cycle of violence and incarceration. It’s certainly not the only story of its kind, especially considering how much POC are often stuck in this system, which this film briefly touches on, but it still hits the target with style and an unexpected emotional heft. I’m eager to see where Yann Demange and Richie Merritt go from here.