Fog hovers over a mountaintop as a cutout depicting a coal miner stands at a memorial to local miners killed on the job in Cumberland, Ky. Kentucky coal miners bled and died to unionize, but the days when ‘King Coal’ dominated the lives of people here are long gone. The legacy of this exploitative period is missing, though, from Ron Howard’s film adaptation of J.D. Vance’s ‘Hillbilly Elegy.’ | David Goldman / AP

This film review was originally published on Dec. 1, 2020. On July 15, 2024, Donald Trump named J.D. Vance as his vice-presidential running mate in the 2024 election.

Ron Howard’s new Netflix movie Hillbilly Elegy is a strange mélange of histrionic soap opera and half-baked attempts at social criticism. The storyline follows J.D. Vance’s autobiography of his journey from a troubled youth in Kentucky through his quest to find employment with a prestigious law firm. The movie unconvincingly thrashes out in several directions before it runs out of energy and falls lifelessly to the floor.

Howard’s melodrama seems to want to say something about Vance’s rise. He flashes back and forth in time from young J.D.’s Kentucky hillbilly roots through his family move to Ohio to his post-Yale Law School interview for an elite job.  Threatening his progress at every step are his mother’s struggles with mental health and addiction, her failed relationships, and family poverty.

Amy Adams’s Mother Vance readily amps up the volume and gnashing of teeth to advance the plot. Glen Close’s Mamaw (grandmother’s) clichéd nostrums are a threadbare safety net. Poor sister Haley Bennett is given little to do but sympathize.

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