There’s no denying that, as so many have pointed out, it takes a visionary artist to conceptualize and execute a project on this scale, this well. Indeed, the experience of watching a human being age in this way, in the span of one movie, is unforgettable. Yet there are also clear limits to Linklater’s vision. Because in this otherwise sprawling exploration of a boy’s life in America, there is an essential aspect of the present-day human experience that goes unexplored: race.

It’s not surprising that the protagonist and his entire family are white; most movies today, still, are about white people. What’s surprising is that, as portrayed in the movie, Mason lives 12 years in America without ever having or overhearing a significant conversation about race. Not on TV, not at school, not with his parents, nor with any of his friends.

Every movie can’t be about boys or girls of color (though it would be nice to have a few more). No film is obligated to talk about race (though it would be nice if a few more did). And it’s plausible enough that a kid growing up in suburban Texas would not be confronted with racism very often.*

It’s certainly true as well that many viewers who don’t look like Mason, including women and people of color, have found and will continue to find Boyhood’s narrative illuminating and relatable.

But the fact that this particular film omits the topic of race almost entirely, underscores something insidious about our movies and the society they reflect.

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Boyhood is not, in general, oblivious to the real world. Linklater does choose to openly point out social inequities that Mason encounters on his path.

Mason’s family is not wealthy, and their struggles with money clearly play a major factor in the narrative. His friends make gay jokes and participate in macho posturing, but Mason openly rejects the aggressive masculinity of his mom’s partners (even as he is chastised by one for wearing nail polish). At one point the kids giggle at a disabled person, and the camera lingers on the exchange—asking Mason to consider it further.

He observes women being demeaned, objectified, and—in one brief moment—even physically abused. We’re also shown his working single mother, Olivia, doing her best to get by (brilliantly given life by Patricia Arquette). And Mason’s sister Samantha, played by Linklater’s own daughter, is used throughout to reference just how much girlhood in America might differ from boyhood.

These are intentional decisions on the part of the director. They draw attention to the ways in which kids see the world, how they talk to one another, and how they learn about the society around them. Mason is constantly observing people, and through these observations he is changing.

Most of these scenes make us, as the audience, wince at the things we inadvertently teach our kids. And they make us reflect on a time when we were blissfully unaware of the pain around us. But they also force us to consider some of the cruelties, subtle and not, that mark our society: classism, homophobia, sexism, ableism...