The Fleeting Beauty of ‘American Honey’

The 2016 road movie “American Honey,” directed by Andrea Arnold, is a hidden gem that deserves more attention. This film has all the makings of a cult classic: a non-linear narrative, a ragtag cast of characters, and a setting that’s both idyllic and foreboding.

Arnold’s unorthodox casting process involved scouring parking lots and state fairs for non-professional actors, many of whom were barely out of their teens at the time of filming. The result is a cast that feels genuinely raw and untamed, with Sasha Lane shining as Star, a teenager who abandons her abusive father to join a group of magazine salespeople on the road.

The film’s portrayal of harsh realities faced by its characters sets it apart from other road trip movies. Beneath the surface-level partying and rebellion lies a scathing critique of the exploitation of young people, particularly those from marginalized communities. The film’s protagonist, Star, is a clear-eyed observer of her surroundings, and Lane brings a vulnerability to the role that makes her impossible to look away from.

The supporting cast, including Shia LaBeouf as Jake and Riley Keough as Krystal, adds depth to an already complex narrative. Arnold’s direction elevates “American Honey” above its contemporaries with her use of natural lighting and handheld camera work, which creates a sense of immediacy that draws the viewer into the world of the film.

The experience of watching “American Honey” is about more than just open roads and endless sunsets; it’s about feeling young, broke, and free, with no particular destination in sight. The film wears its heart on its sleeve, but some viewers may find its three-hour runtime and meandering narrative off-putting.

For those willing to invest the time, “American Honey” rewards with a richly textured portrayal of a world that’s both familiar and foreign. As it leaves Tubi in just a few short days, I’m reminded of the fleeting nature of these kinds of discoveries. It’s not often that we stumble upon films like “American Honey,” which combine style and substance to create something truly memorable.

The film’s ability to capture the complexities of nostalgia is one of its most compelling aspects. As Star navigates her new life on the road, she’s forced to confront the harsh realities of her past and the uncertain future that lies ahead. Arnold’s film doesn’t shy away from the ways in which our memories can be distorted or manipulated – whether it’s through social media, advertising, or simply the passage of time.

This tension between nostalgia and reality is a thread that runs throughout the film, resonating deeply with viewers who have ever felt the pull of escapism. “American Honey” doesn’t offer easy answers or tidy resolutions; instead, it presents us with a world that’s messy, complicated, and ultimately, all too real.

As we look to the future – and one that promises to be increasingly mediated by streaming platforms – it’s tempting to view “American Honey” as a relic of a bygone era. But I’d argue that its themes are more relevant than ever: from the exploitation of young people to the commodification of our viewing habits, Arnold’s film provides a searing critique of our times.

Despite its prescience, “American Honey” feels curiously timeless – as if it could have been made yesterday or 20 years ago. This paradox is perhaps the greatest testament to Arnold’s skill as a director: her ability to capture the essence of an era while transcending its specificities.

As I write this, “American Honey” will soon be gone from Tubi – lost in the vast expanse of streaming options that promise and disappoint us in equal measure. But I’d argue that it’s precisely this fleeting nature that makes the film so essential: a reminder that our experiences are precious, ephemeral things that must be savored before they’re gone forever.