The Real Reason Critics Hated Hillbilly Elegy

Netflix’s adaptation of the novel Hillbilly Elegy garnered criticism from critics for allegedly portraying rural Americans negatively and glorifying author J. D. Vance’s escape from poverty. The controversy began before the film’s release, as critics’ overwhelmingly negative reviews contrasted with audiences’ positive responses.

Hillbilly Elegy follows Vance as he overcomes cycles of poverty in rural Ohio to attend Yale Law School. In describing his family’s intergenerational trauma, Vance successfully analyzes the plights of rural, White, working-class Americans.

The movie begins with Vance in law school, attending interviews for summer associate jobs. While Vance dines with his top-choice firm, his sister Lindsay calls him to reveal that their mother Bev relapsed in her opiate addiction. The film follows Vance through his interviews and his return home to help his mother. Numerous flashbacks depict how his family ended up in Ohio from Kentucky, from his grandmother Mamaw getting pregnant at thirteen to his mother’s abusive acts to the beginning of her addiction to Vance joining the Marines to escape poverty.

Hillbilly Elegy shows that people must make better choices to overcome poverty, namely

generational poverty. But it also acknowledges that people need positive support systems to help them overcome vicious cycles. That’s why Bev and Vance’s stories turn out differently despite their similar origins.

Bev was the salutatorian of her high school and put herself through nursing school as a single mother, but she still could not pull herself out of poverty because she had no one to support her. She slips further into her addiction and struggles to raise her children. She turns to men for support, hoping to find someone who can give her family a better life.

Vance could have become like Bev; he was hanging out with the wrong crowd, drink-

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ing, and getting into legal trouble—all because he had no one to guide him. His behavior changes only when Mamaw intervenes, as she takes custody of him and forces him to change. Vance would not have the work ethic that got him accepted to Yale Law—or college or the Marines—without Mamaw’s guidance and sacrifices. Mamaw prioritizes Vance’s education over her

own needs, even purchasing him an $85 calculator instead of her necessary medication.

Vance’s story shows that having some kind of support system—regardless of circumstance— is critical to overcoming systemic poverty.

Despite the movie’s seemingly irrefutable message and the book’s glowing initial reception, critics rejected the film and its themes. Notable reviews called Hillbilly Elegy “one of the worst movies of the year” and “not the fun kind of bad,” accusing the film of seeing its characters as selective evidence that poverty is the fault of the poor.

Hillbilly Elegy humanizes low-income rural Americans, which is critical to achieving a civil, culturally unified America. The critics’ dismissive response mirrors the US’ ignorance toward poverty in Middle America.

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The Atlantic’s David Simms accused Vance and the film of mischaracterizing Appalachia. He believed Hillbilly Elegy “overcompensates for its straightforward storyline by ladling on the histrionics, such as . . . Bev’s harrowing behavior (at one point, she threatens to drive her truck into oncoming traffic with J. D. in the car).” Despite these storylines coming directly from the book and Vance’s life, Simms believes that these “histrionics” are exaggerated and have no broader purpose, leading me to wonder whether we watched the same film.

Vulture’s Alison Willmore is more explicit about her distaste for the movie’s message. Despite recognizing that “the screen version of Hillbilly Elegy is . . . not bent on making a case for how poverty is the fault of the poor,” she also believes the movie is “not about anything else either.” She perceives the characters as “selective evidence shoring up an argument that’s too distasteful for [the film] to make.”

However, the movie clearly credits poverty to generational issues. Near the one-hour mark, Bev refuses treatment as she watches her son charge thousands of dollars on credit cards to pay for two weeks of her rehab. Vance yells at his mother outside the center, criticizing her selfishness and lack of willpower, even asking her if she is “just too lazy to try.”

If the scene stopped here, the critics might have a point, but it does not. Lindsay also responds to Vance’s criticisms: “Don’t be stupid . . . Mom and Aunt Lori, they had it worse than us. It was a war in that house.” The film shifts to a flashback depicting Bev’s trauma—namely her father’s alcoholism and her mother, Mamaw, responding to numerous beatings at his hands by setting him on fire.

These scenes show that Bev didn’t have a support system, especially from her mother. And this realization

contextualizes Bev’s addiction just as Vance does in the book—not excusing it, but explaining it.

In an interview about the movie’s negative reception, Vance expanded on the film’s conclusion:

“People have to be able to hold two thoughts in their head at the same time. You can believe that people have very tough circumstances and that we as a society have a responsibility to give opportunity and hope to people no matter the circumstances they came from and then, on the other hand, that people have some responsibility and some personal agency despite rough personal circumstances, right?”

While the film implies that people must make better choices to overcome poverty— namely working hard, following the law, and choosing a better path—it does not blame poor people for being poor. Yet, critics seemed to misrepresent the film willfully to appeal to their preconceived narrative.

Take Sarah Jones at Vulture, who stated that she “did not expect to like this movie.” When Jones described the scene at the rehabilitation center, she interpreted the movie’s depiction of Bev as “the culprit, a recalcitrant good-for-nothing who let her health insurance lapse and can’t muster a little gratitude when her suit-jacketed son tries to put her stay on his credit cards.”

However, Bev changes her mind about treatment after watching her son struggling to pay the expensive fees, even firmly stating that she’s “not a charity case.” Bev didn’t want to take anything else from her son because she felt that she had already taken enough. At best, Jones misrepresented the scene because she forgot what happened; at worst, she was too busy trying to confirm her own biases. Either way, her review failed to understand and examine the film’s tenets—a disservice to those looking for a critical take.

Other critics blamed the film for oversimplifying Vance’s Appalachian upbringing and for intertwining immorality and poverty.

Having read the book and watched the movie, I will attest that the movie simplifies its source material, as all film adaptations do. But I disagree with the critics who claimed that Hillbilly Elegy fails to feature complex ideas. The movie and the book have the

same overarching thesis: sometimes, you have to leave behind the people you love for self-preservation.

At the end of the movie, Vance chooses to leave his mother in a motel room after she almost relapses—even though he seriously considers staying when she asks him to—in order to get to an interview with his topchoice law firm the next morning. He helps his mother in every way he can but does not risk his future. It is a powerful and controversial conclusion that many critics overlooked in constructing their narrative.

Hillbilly Elegy does not vilify poverty, as many critics claimed. It places some responsibility on the individual but acknowledges the generational challenges that make assuming this responsibility difficult. Vance is not the hero of the story, and Bev is not the villain. Vance’s future successes aren’t presented as a consequence of his superiority, exceptional talent, or work ethic. They are a product of his Mamaw’s intervention and his support system—all things Bev never had.

Critics did not hate Hillbilly Elegy because it blames the poor for being poor or oversimplifies Appalachia. They hated it because of their preconceived notion of Vance’s right-leaning political beliefs, which are not discussed in the movie. Jones even criticized Vance’s politics explicitly in her Vulture review, portraying him as connected to the alt-right when he is a moderate conservative.

Furthermore, a scene toward the end explicitly addresses systemic barriers. The story flashes back to when Mamaw took custody of Vance. We see her requesting extra food from Meals on Wheels and struggling financially to support her grandson. These scenes showed how necessary Mamaw’s sacrifices were for Vance’s success.

“There are ways in which I sort of fit comfortably in the conservative coalition and ways in which I don’t,” Vance said of the criticism of his politics. “But I’m very clearly on the American right, so I think [it’s] a little bit of ‘we’re giving this conservative too much air time, so let’s change that.’”

The critics assigned beliefs to the movie that weren't present, ignoring the heartfelt, impactful, and effective storytelling to criticize an irrelevant notion of poverty they incorrectly associate with the right.

Hillbilly Elegy did not vilify the poor, but the critics certainly vilified Vance and his discussion of the plights of Middle America. Another Vulture critic deemed the book and film “unnecessary; nobody needed to ‘suddenly’ understand the Appalachian region or its problems, because Appalachian studies is a real field of scholarship. You can get degrees in it!”

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this was, imagine if the critic said this about a film focused on African Americans or LGBTQ+ people. By that logic, films like Get Out, Moonlight, and Call Me By Your Name aren’t necessary because we have African American and queer studies. Just because you can study a topic does not mean that laymen understand it. There is value in creating an artistic depiction of other cultures, allowing audiences to forge emotional connections and sympathize with those portrayed.

Hillbilly Elegy humanizes low-income rural Americans, which is critical to achieving a civil, culturally unified America. The critics’ dismissive response mirrors the US’ ignorance toward poverty in Middle America.

Rural America has declined for decades as urban population centers have grown, largely because of cheapening rural resources and labor. Rural Americans, including the Vance family, have suffered from outsourcing, automation, and technological progress. Between 2001 and 2018, the US–China trade deficit effectively eliminated more than 3.7 million jobs, 75 percent of which were in manufacturing.

Shrinking industry continues to hit historically major manufacturing hubs in Ohio and Pennsylvania. In 2019, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, and Michigan each lost more than four thousand factory positions. Globalization is critical to economic development, but there are overlooked consequences to progress. We can’t artificially reinstate these industries;

we must—as Vance explained—help rural Americans transition into more lucrative and sustainable careers.

Liberal policies are disconnected from Middle America, exacerbating inequality between rural and urban voters. For example,

Through this failure to fairly review art, critics deter film studios from taking chances on unconventional stories, leading to fewer films tackling controversial social issues.

student loan forgiveness would require the working class to subsidize college debt. Climate action policy—primarily rules established by the Environmental Protection Agency—hurts rural industries, notably agriculture, coal, and manufacturing. Abolishing the Electoral College would make rural voters feel even more disenfranchised, only exacerbating the culture war.

Despite supporting policies like these, some Democrats have the audacity to say rural voters are voting against their interests.

And now critics have the audacity to condemn Hillbilly Elegy for “misrepresenting” Appalachia, “blaming” poor people for being poor, and “intertwining” immorality and poverty. They disliked the movie because they disagreed with Vance, and they willfully misrepresented the film to align it to their preconceived perspective.

While responding to a negative review, Princeton professor Robert P. George wondered if such critics “might have . . . I dunno

. . . an agenda?” I think so, and George does too, answering that “The campaign against the film—made by the standard-issue liberal filmmaker Ron Howard, by the way—is purely political.”

Even when critics discussed the film’s acting, their ideological bias reared its ugly head. The Atlantic’s Simms characterized Mamaw’s portrayal as “steely goofiness—dressed in a fright wig and baggy sweatshirts, she bustles around every scene cursing and yelling tough-love homilies at the camera lens.” Heaccused the actor of misrepresenting Mamaw and Appalachia, but the portrayal aligns with how she actually behaved.

Hillbilly Elegy did not deserve this backlash. While the film credits individual choice in the poverty conversation, it does not ignore generational issues. Having a success story doesn’t mean there were no challenges, and it doesn’t imply that there are no government-sponsored solutions to those challenges.

The only thing these critics proved is their inability to analyze films that do not confirm their biases. Through this failure to fairly review art, critics deter film studios from taking chances on unconventional stories, leading to fewer films tackling controversial social issues. And this gatekeeping only stifles conversation, further limiting our understanding of one another.

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