Watching Boy Erased during Pride Month feels a little ironic. This isn’t a film about celebrating LGBTQ identity so much as it is a film about the expectations society places upon people and the damage that can be done when someone is told they are not allowed to be who they are.

Written and directed by Joel Edgerton, who also appears in a supporting role, Boy Erased focuses on the controversial practice of conversion therapy. What is most alarming about revisiting the film today is realizing how relevant it remains. When it was released in 2018, it felt like the kind of film that should have helped push public understanding forward. Instead, years later, conversion therapy continues to be debated in courts and legislatures, a reminder that the issues at the heart of this story have never fully gone away.

Based on a true story, Boy Erased has occupied an interesting place within the LGBTQ community. It was celebrated upon release, earning major recognition, but it has also drawn criticism from those who argue that it approaches its subject from a largely non-queer perspective. I understand that criticism, but I also think it misses part of the film’s purpose. We are living in a time when queer stories are more visible than ever. Every year brings films, television series, and streaming projects featuring openly LGBTQ characters, actors, and filmmakers. Boy Erased was clearly designed with a different audience in mind.

The casting alone makes that obvious. Nicole Kidman and Russell Crowe are major stars whose presence broadens the film’s appeal far beyond LGBTQ audiences. Lucas Hedges, Joe Alwyn, and even Flea contribute to a cast that is not built around recognizable queer icons. There is no obvious figure here meant to serve as a symbol of representation. Instead, Edgerton’s film is structured to bring the conversation about conversion therapy to viewers who might not otherwise engage with it.

That approach works, but it also makes Boy Erased a difficult watch. The film is uncomfortable not because it is sensationalized, but because the practices it depicts continue to exist. Watching young people subjected to conversion therapy is not entertaining. It is frustrating, heartbreaking, and infuriating. The fact that these programs still operate today makes the film feel less like a historical drama and more like an ongoing warning.

The story follows Jared, played by Lucas Hedges, a young gay man raised in a deeply religious household. His father, a Baptist pastor played by Russell Crowe, cannot reconcile his faith with his son’s identity and ultimately sends him to a conversion therapy program after seeking guidance from fellow religious leaders. The arrangement itself begins to feel absurd the more it is examined. Jared’s family is paying for the program while his mother stays nearby in a hotel and picks him up every evening. It becomes increasingly clear that everyone involved is investing enormous amounts of money, time, and emotional energy into something fundamentally incapable of delivering what it promises.

The scenes inside the program are tragic and often difficult to sit through. Part of me wonders whether Edgerton pulls his punches at times, reluctant to push certain moments further. At the same time, the film is rooted in a real person’s experience, and there is only so far it can go before it drifts into fiction. In that regard, the restraint may be intentional.

Lucas Hedges carries much of the film on his shoulders, delivering a performance that I find even stronger than his Oscar-nominated work in Manchester by the Sea. He brings vulnerability, intelligence, and quiet determination to Jared, particularly in scenes opposite Joe Alwyn’s Henry. Hedges is given a great deal to work with and makes the most of every opportunity.

Nicole Kidman is equally impressive. Her performance is built on subtle evolution, beginning from a place of support and obedience before gradually transforming into something stronger and more independent. She brings warmth to the film when it needs it most and serves as its emotional anchor. Russell Crowe’s character may ultimately be treated with more generosity than some viewers will be comfortable with, but that decision belongs as much to the source material as it does to the film itself.

I did find this with audio description on Netflix, though it is a Focus Features release, so it’ll bounce around. it does have one. I’m not sure if I watched it the first time with or without audio description, because it has been a while, but there are so many hard to watch moments captured perfectly by the audio description track.

What makes Boy Erased endure is not necessarily its filmmaking, though it is well made across the board. Its lasting value comes from its willingness to document a reality that many people would rather ignore. It is not always an easy film to recommend because it is not an easy film to watch. Yet its importance remains undeniable. Nearly a decade after its release, it still feels less like a relic of the past and more like a reminder of work that remains unfinished.

Boy Erased may not have reached the broad audience it was hoping for when it arrived in theaters, but it deserves to be rediscovered. Beneath its difficult subject matter is a powerful story about identity, faith, family, and the cost of asking someone to become somebody else.

Fresh: 8.1/10