Rob Reiner's latest film, the coming-of-age addiction drama Being Charlie, is a family endeavor. Co-written by his son Nick and inspired by the younger Reiner's own real-life struggles with drugs, rehab, and dealing with a famous father, it marks the first collaboration between the two men. While it's nice to think that the movie provided some measure of healing for both of them, it's still a middling and frequently cloying venture into the world of teen drug abuse.
Charlie (a charismatic Nick Robinson) is an ultra-privileged and acerbic junkie who has bounced around from one rehab center to the next for years -- despite the fact that he's only 18. His actor-turned-politician father David (Cary Elwes) is running for governor of California; fearful of how his son's drug addiction will look to potential voters, he forces the teen to commit to rehab by fabricating criminal charges that will supposedly land him in jail if he violates the rules of his new treatment facility. Charlie then begrudgingly accepts his "sentence" at a progressive clinic manned by wise ex-con Travis (Common). His deadpan wit (he's an aspiring standup comedian) rubs some people the wrong way, but he catches the eye of a fellow patient named Eva (Morgan Saylor), and they begin a relationship in spite of the strict rules against such contact inside the facility. As they near graduation from rehab, Charlie discovers the truth about how his father's tough love landed him in the clinic in the first place. His relationship with his parents sours even more, while his budding love for Eva threatens to become toxic as his addictions resurface and events in his life come to a head.
Though no doubt a deeply personal and cathartic endeavor for both the director and co-screenwriter, Being Charlie remains a paint-by-numbers addiction drama. Every stock character you'd expect from such a story is here: the overbearing parents, the troubled love interest, the devoted drug buddy (a believable turn from Devon Bostick), and the hard-nosed but sympathetic rehab counselor. But the younger Reiner and co-writer Matt Elisofon fail to add the kind of believable details that would make us care about the plight of these people. For example, a late plot twist involving Bostick's character feels cut and pasted from any number of indie teen dramas from the last decade. It all amounts to a mildly uncomfortable viewing experience -- a lot of the dialogue seems like it should have been a private conversation between the Reiners.
Compared to the clunkers that Rob Reiner has churned out in recent years, Being Charlie at least has enough soulfulness to harken back to his late-'80s heyday. It's buoyed by some nice performances, but it's too full of on-the-nose messages and platitudes to be appealing. Addictions like Charlie's, which tear apart families and redefine relationships to their core, rarely end with a neatly tied bow like we see here. There's a lot of posturing and pedestrian opining, yet Being Charlie ultimately doesn't have anything fresh or subversive to say about the merry-go-round of rehab -- except that if your father is a famous movie director, one day you might get to pen a screenplay about your experiences.