Instead of going to see VALERIAN I watched this on Netflix with my mom. I think it was a good use of my time.

Robert Pattinson plays Dennis, a freelance photographer in 1955 New York who stumbled upon a young actor named Jimmy, and ends up on a trip to Jimmy’s Indiana farmhouse with him.

“Jimmy” is of course James Dean, seen in this film shortly before the premiere of his first movie, EAST OF EDEN, and he’s played by Dane DeHaan — that’s right, Valerian himself.

For a film like this, the first question is always gonna be “How was the guy who played James Dean?” And the answer here is “Good, but not necessarily what you’d expect.” DeHaan is both a natural and a curious choice for the late Dean. He’s got a resemblance to him (in a movie focused so much on photography and iconography, this is not superficial) and he certainly can play young and moody. But he’s not got that inherent charisma of Dean — who does? At times, he seems more like if James Dean if James Dean were cloned specifically as a vessel for organs for another, richer James Dean. At first, DeHaan seems wrong — his affected voice sounds weak and watery, almost like Bobcat Goldthwait at times. After his first scene, my mom turned to me and asked “Couldn’t they have gotten a better actor?” Harsh, mom.

But as the film goes on and its focus becomes clearer, DeHaan seems more and more right. By the time, Dennis and Jimmy get to having dinner with Jimmy’s extended Midwestern family, he seems practically perfect. The actor leans into the awkward and depressive aspects of the young performer on the verge of superstardom, and the result, while it takes a while to warm up, has real pathos.

But beyond the performance, how is the film? It’s very well made. Corbijn, a photographer himself, has an obvious skill for elegant compositions. Don’t expect a romp through Hollywood history though — this is a pretty dour movie, obviously intentionally so, but that approach has its limitations. Corbijn’ wide, static shots seem like beautiful photographs come to life, but only about half to life. There is a certain icy bloodlessness to the whole affair, strange for a film about a pop culture icon. No doubt Corbijn and company are aiming for a demythification and a grounding of the urban legend of Dean, but they seem to swing too far in the opposite direction at times.

The literal darkness of the cinematography by Charlotte Bruus Christensen captures the cold, dim feel of a Midwestern winter and makes a Hollywood red carpet premiere look not too different.

Overall, it’s a minor film, but a good one. It won’t rewrite the book on James Dean, fame, or the symbiotic relationship between myth and myth maker, but it’s worth its time, and gives the audience something to ruminate on, like a very stoned method actor listening to jazz and fooling around with a conga drum. If that’s what you’re into.

By the end of it, my mom had turned to me, and said “Good choice. That was very good.” Thanks, mom.