Have you ever known a junkie?
   Even if you haven't, chances are you've seen enough movies to know how they behave. They lie, they steal, they are overly susceptible to cheap psychoanalysis. They make interesting subjects for movies because no matter how decent, mild and upstanding they might be in their Jekyllesque straight life, once the killer moon of addiction rises they become howling, self-destructive Hydes.
   Sherrybaby is one of those familiar druggie tales, elevated several notches by Maggie Gyllenhaal's fearless and brutally honest performance as Sherry Swanson, a heroin addict who's been rinsed clean by three years in the slam. We meet her on the bus from prison to her new life in a New Jersey halfway house, and we get a feeling for her as a perpetual victim and black hole of neediness from her first (literal ) brush with another person. This is a woman who takes every bump and jostle as an affront -- Sherry's pathology has as much to do with narcissism as chemical dependence.
   While Sherry was in jail, the care and feeding of her young daughter, Alexis (Ryan Simpkins ), has been taken on by her brother Bobby (Brad William Henke, who is superb) and his wife, Lynnette (Bridget Barkan). Sherry, of course, doesn't seem to recognize the sacrifice the couple have made for her, instead she's put out that Alexis has bonded with Lynnette (who for all intents and purposes has become the child's mother). Sherry sets off to re-establish herself as the most important figure in the kid's life in a way that's creepy, pathetic and -- because Gyllenhaal is so emotionally accurate -- genuinely affecting.
   That's not to suggest Sherry is a likable character. But she does want to care for her daughter, if only because being a good mother is something she sees as key to becoming healthy. A kid from the suburbs and victim of childhood abuse (you can tell from the way she competes with Alexis for male attention that Sherry's a daddy's girl) who ended up as an underage pole dancer, Sherry is apparently unable to relate to men any way but through sex. (She's a bit more gone than the similar character in Joey Lauren Adams' Come Early Morning -- Ashley Judd's Lucy has more grit and ballast than Sherry and is more self-reliant and better able to handle the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, but the women are sisters.)
   There are some terrific moments in Sherrybaby; Danny Trejo shows up and, as usual, impresses with his inimitable brand of hard-case bonhomie. And the scenes with Giancarlo Esposito as a tough-minded parole officer who's not tempted by Sherry's proffered favors ring true.
   I don't know anything about Laurie Collyer, the writer and director of the film, but I'd be surprised if she didn't have some intimate knowledge of the way felons are processed back onto the street. The halfway house looks as shabby as such places are, and the contrast between Bobby's modest starter home -- appropriately furnished with the kind of aspiring-to-quality furniture and electronic gear one could rent to own -- and the rooms Sherry sleeps in is enough to scare most people straight.
   While there is a certain predictable rhythm to the film -- Sherry's arc is unsurprising -- it never feels pat or succumbs to the same sort of 12-step sermonizing it satirizes. Gyllenhaal couldn't be better in service of a film that seems to focus on the wrong character; the more interesting point of view would be Bobby's, a gallant, unglamorous guy who's trying to hold his family together in the midst of Hurricane Sherry.
   

pmartin@arkansasonline.com Sherrybaby
   BCast :
Maggie Gyllenhaal, Brad William Henke, Sam Bottoms, Danny Trejo

Director:
Laurie Collyer

Rating:
R for language, drug use, sex, nudity

Running time:
96 minutes

This story was published Friday, December 29, 2006