The Book of Henry is a typical heart warming tale of a tumor turning a kid into a genius then killing him thus leaving his mother bereft and having to fulfill his final wish: to kill the next door neighbor, the police chief, who is abusing his step daughter. Also his brief hospital stay permits his mom, played by Naomi Watts, to meet hot doctor, Lee Pace, who decides to make house calls after the kid dies, and now his brother is popular. Did I miss anything? The tone of the movie alarmingly and wildly veers from quaint, bucolic town to seedy underworld. Also the fact that Henry is a genius mastermind who is quietly plotting to kill someone does not make me good, even if the person deserves to die. It makes me think that we have a baby serial killer on our hands.
The Book of Henry may be aiming for A Prayer for Owen Meany, but instead of a higher power, a child makes a life-size Rube Goldberg device to make everyone’s life better except his own. Can we take a moment to discuss that there isn’t just one child abuser in this movie, but two? It is not adorable for a kid, even if he is a genius, to be the family’s caretaker. His mom is playing video games and openly getting drunk because Henry is the one in charge. Please note that I’m not criticizing a parent engaging in those activities once you have done your job, and your kid has a safety net so if you’re blitzed and something happens, your child will be fine and not left with the option of rousing drunk parent to get help. It is called parentification, and that crap isn’t cute. The fantasy of a kid not only raising himself and his brother, but magically nurturing his mother, making her independently wealthy and finally ready to be a good mother is actually a nightmare.
If you like Naomi Watts, then you may love The Book of Henry, but I think that the movie is dangerous and furthers prevailing views that kids exist to make their parents’ lives better. That role belongs to parents. If you benefit from your kid’s existence, then that benefit is a bonus. Kids don’t ask to be born, and they are not your fairy godmother.