The J.D. Vance autobiographical film: is it as bad as (almost) everyone says?

Donald Trump succeeded in his presidential campaign, and his running mate, J.D. Vance, also achieved a major political victory, transforming from a bestselling author and venture capitalist to the next Vice President of the United States. If this had happened 20 or 30 years ago, such a rags-to-riches story would have been instinctively embraced as the embodiment of the American Dream, one that would have drawn Hollywood and audiences across the country.

However, today, Vance's life journey is surrounded by significant controversy. His transformation from a staunch Trump critic to a fervent Trump supporter raises doubts about whether he is simply an opportunistic flip-flopper. He claimed to write a book that gave a voice to the working-class Rust Belt, but in reality, he criticized Rust Belt residents as lazy and apathetic, worsening the conditions they faced. Meanwhile, he earned a fortune in the venture capital world, backed by Wall Street and Silicon Valley funds. With such a multifaceted character, it’s hard to determine how much sincerity lies behind his various statements.

Adapting Vance’s memoir into a film thus became a tricky task, especially for Hollywood, which is predominantly liberal. Simply taking on this project required great courage. But after watching the 2020 Netflix film Hillbilly Elegy, I believe director Ron Howard did an outstanding job with this challenge. As an experienced veteran filmmaker, Howard tells a story that could easily have been simplified or sensationalized with remarkable subtlety. He was not swayed by politics or emotions but approached the film with common sense, presenting a universal human story of poverty, inherited struggles, and life-changing transformations.

Hillbilly Elegy unfolds along two parallel narrative threads: one follows JD's early years growing up in Ohio, while the other depicts JD receiving news that his mother, Beverly, has overdosed and is in a coma, just as he is preparing for an important internship interview. JD returns to his hometown to care for his mother, and memories—sweet and frustrating—begin to resurface.

The film starkly presents the challenges faced by the Rust Belt: the collapse of traditional industries, economic decline, and the disillusionment of the working class that once formed the backbone of the American economy. With no prospects for a brighter future, many are driven to ruin, their lives consumed by alcohol, prescription drugs, and illicit substances.

JD’s grandmother and mother are both victims of these circumstances, although Beverly's downfall is more severe than that of “Mamaw.” Both women grew up in a life of poverty, filled with fighting and domestic abuse, and passed this way of life down to the next generation. Above all, the film highlights the unaddressed decline affecting the entire region of central America. Ordinary, hard-working people are left behind, while those who excel at gaming the welfare system manage to improve their lives.

JD nearly succumbed to this cycle of poverty. His mother’s erratic behavior constantly jeopardized his education, and he nearly gave up and joined his wayward friends. It was Mamaw’s intervention that gave him a second chance. She took JD in, away from his mother, and strictly supervised his studies and friendships.

When JD, feeling overwhelmed, asks Mamaw, "Why can't you just let me go?" she replies:

"I can't live forever. Someone has to take care of this family, take care of your mama."

Hillbilly Elegy offers a rare glimpse of the familial traditions of the American South and Midwest in Hollywood films. Bloodlines bring both burdens and strengths to these characters. It is the very same bloodline that inspires Mamaw to save JD from the brink of self-destruction and encourages JD to escape his hopeless environment, pursue a better education, and ultimately view the structural issues of the Rust Belt from a higher perspective.

Ron Howard skillfully depicts the conflicts and bonds within three generations of a family. On the other hand, in JD’s adult storyline, he also subtly illustrates the elitist arrogance displayed by East Coast elites when encountering JD’s humble origins:

One Ivy League elite, dining with JD, carelessly uses the term “redneck”; JD responds, “We don’t use that word to describe each other where I’m from,” which leaves the table in silence. But another colleague cannot resist perpetuating the tired stereotype of middle Americans being unrefined and poorly educated.

JD fires back, “My mom was the student speaker at her high school graduation. She’s the smartest person I know, probably smarter than any of us at this table.”

The table falls into deeper silence. The only response comes from a Washington executive:

"It looks like we should offer your mother a job."

JD is left with no further reply. But two days later, it is this very executive who, impressed by JD’s frankness, helps him pass the internship interview.

This scene brilliantly illustrates the complex relationship between America’s elites and the working class. As Vance writes in his book:

“Sometimes those in power offer real help to people like me, even though they don’t truly understand our needs.”

Amid the tension between the elite and the lower classes, the past and present, the deep emotional connection to the Rust Belt and frustration with its lack of progress, Ron Howard successfully crafts a story full of love and anger. It allows us to witness the struggles of people like JD, the inherited misfortunes of Rust Belt residents, and the voices of these angry, muted people. These voices have been ignored by Hollywood for too long, and they should no longer be overlooked.

In today’s climate, dominated by partisanship and emotional storytelling, Hillbilly Elegy is a rare film that calls for consensus. It doesn’t seek immediate catharsis or attack those with opposing views, but rather attempts to find common ground for those with conflicting perspectives.

Such films may not immediately compete with extreme voices or those designed for shock value. But we need these rational voices. Only when these voices grow in number can the torn world begin to heal.