It’s no longer a secret that Dakota Johnson can act. Back in February 2018, she escaped the clutches of the Fifty Shades series and by the end of the year had turned in two revelatory performances in Bad Times at the El Royale and as the lead in Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria remake. Her first role of 2019, in twee indie The Peanut Butter Falcon, is far lighter fare. Johnson plays Eleanor, a nursing home employee who is on the trail of an escaped patient with Down’s syndrome (Zack Gottsagen). Some of the film’s most successful comedic beats lie with Johnson—although newcomer Gottsagen is equally funny. Fans of 2010’s The Social Network may remember that she provided some of that film’s biggest laughs as Sean Parker’s one-night stand, and even Fifty Shades’ most ardent detractors must have seen her potential as a comedic force to be reckoned with.

In The Peanut Butter Falcon, Johnson is paired with another veteran of one of Hollywood’s most hated franchises, Shia LaBeouf. Even eight years removed from the series, the spectre of Transformers still hangs over his head—the difference, of course, is that while Johnson elevated the Fifty Shades movies into something bearable, LaBeouf was sadly one of the worst parts of a series comprised almost entirely of bad parts. His performance in The Peanut Butter Falcon, however, may just be good enough to convert his critics—he disappears into his role as Tyler, a fisherman on the run from both his past and the crabbers whose expensive equipment he burns early in the film. He is the first person Zak (Gottsagen) encounters after his escape from the nursing home, and the two form an unlikely friendship – you know how it goes.

Even during his initial abrasive gruffness, there is a warmth to LaBeouf’s performance that endears you to the character. Tyler and Zak’s friendship blossoms into something genuinely heart-warming and when their trio is rounded out by Eleanor, the makeshift family works in a way that it might not have on paper. The performances are all so good that they ward off the eyerolls that one can imagine the screenplay inducing by itself.

Which brings us to Zack Gottsagen, the performer for whom the entire film was conceived. Writer/directors Tyler Nilson and Mike Schwartz met Gottsagen through Zeno Mountain Farm, a non-profit which provides opportunities for people with disabilities, and it was their friendship with him that inspired the film. The Peanut Butter Falcon feels like it should be a turning point for western cinema’s relationship with disability; Zak is a charming, complex protagonist portrayed incredibly by a person with the same condition as the character. This authenticity makes the film more touching, and helps to steer it away from espousing the condescending sympathy that Eleanor has to be taught to let go of.

Zak’s uniqueness as a protagonist is alluded to once in the film’s dialogue. Zak’s dream is to become a famous wrestler—or at least to attend the wrestling school of his hero, The Salt Water Redneck. Begrudgingly, Tyler offers to take Zak to the wrestling school. During one of their nights on the road together, Zak tells Tyler that his wrestling persona will be a ‘bad guy’, reasoning that: ‘I can’t be a hero because I am a Down syndrome person.’ Tyler shuts him down, telling Zak that all that matters is what’s in his heart. From there, the two come up with Zak’s wrestling persona; he becomes the titular Peanut Butter Falcon. Zak refuses to allow his dreams to be limited by his disability, mirroring how Gottsagen’s persistence pushed Nilson and Schwartz to take his talent seriously enough to build a movie around it.

The film itself is all very charming, sharing much of its DNA with Mark Twain novels and more recent fare like Taika Waititi’s Hunt for the Wilderpeople. There’s a pleasing directorial focus on the landscape of the American south, with the setting almost becoming a character in its own right; the route from North Carolina to Florida is made to seem both beautiful and dirty, simultaneously. A few overhead shots, with characters placed perfectly in the centre of frame, recall the aesthetic sensibilities of Wes Anderson and provide some of the film’s most memorable visuals.

Verdict:

The Peanut Butter Falcon is a sweet and surprisingly genuine look at friendship, dreams and personal freedom, with wonderful performances from all of its leads. It represents a huge step forward for depictions of disability in mainstream cinema, placing an unusual (by Hollywood’s standards) value on empathy and authenticity. More films should wear their hearts so openly on their sleeves.

8/10

The Peanut Butter Falcon is in cinemas now.

Image courtesy of Roadside Attractions. All rights reserved.