My Son

Imagine walking onto a film set in the middle of the misty Scottish Highlands, surrounded by a professional crew and A-list co-stars, and having absolutely no idea what you are supposed to say. No script, no rehearsal, no safety net. That was the reality for James McAvoy during the production of My Son. While the rest of the cast—including Claire Foy and Gary Lewis—had been given a full screenplay to study and memorize, McAvoy was essentially dropped into a live-action mystery box, reacting to every twist, revelation, and punch in real-time. It’s a bold, experimental swing for a 2021 thriller, and honestly, it’s the primary reason to hit play.

I watched this on a Tuesday night while trying to ignore a radiator that kept clanking like a ghost in a Victorian novel, and the bleak, damp atmosphere of the film paired perfectly with my own mild domestic annoyance.

The High-Wire Act of Total Improvisation

The premise is straightforward: Edmond Murray (James McAvoy) is a father who has been largely absent from his son’s life due to a high-pressure job abroad. When the boy goes missing from a campsite, Edmond returns to the town where his ex-wife, Joan (Claire Foy), lives. From there, the film follows his frantic, fumbling search for answers.

Director Christian Carion is essentially remaking his own 2017 French film, Mon Garçon, using the exact same gimmick. In our current era of "Content" with a capital C—where streaming platforms are saturated with hyper-polished, focus-grouped thrillers—there is something genuinely refreshing about a film that embraces the messiness of human reaction. Because McAvoy doesn’t know where the story is going, his performance lacks that "movie star" sheen of knowing exactly when the beat is going to drop. When he’s frustrated, he’s actually frustrated. When he discovers a clue, you can see the gears turning in his head in a way that feels uncomfortably real. The script-free approach is less a "groundbreaking achievement" and more of a very expensive, very rainy acting workshop, but McAvoy is talented enough to make that workshop feel like a high-stakes drama.

Grief in the Highlands

While McAvoy is the focal point of the experiment, Claire Foy (known for The Crown and First Man) provides the emotional ballast. Her job is arguably harder; she has to hit specific narrative beats and deliver plot-heavy dialogue while reacting to a lead actor who might say literally anything. She portrays Joan with a brittle, exhausted grief that makes for a sharp contrast to Edmond’s growing, explosive desperation.

The chemistry between them is strained and awkward, which is exactly how an estranged couple should feel in the wake of a nightmare. There’s a scene early on where they sit in a car together, and the silence is so heavy you can almost feel the damp Scottish air pressing against the glass. Gary Lewis, as the investigating Inspector Roy, also deserves a shout-out for maintaining a calm, procedural energy while McAvoy is essentially vibrating with unscripted anxiety. The film excels at capturing that specific "small town" tension—the feeling that everyone knows more than they are saying, and the terrifying realization that your child might be gone forever in a landscape that is as beautiful as it is indifferent.

A Streaming Experiment in the Post-Pandemic Landscape

My Son arrived at a strange moment in cinema history. Released primarily on Peacock and Roku in the tail-end of 2021, it’s a prime example of the "mid-budget thriller" that has migrated almost entirely from theaters to the streaming void. It didn't have the marketing muscle of a Marvel sequel, and its meager box office reflects that. However, its existence speaks to a specific contemporary trend: the search for "authenticity" through technological or structural gimmicks.

The cinematography by Eric Dumont leans heavily into the natural gloom of the location. The greys, browns, and deep greens of the Highlands aren't just a backdrop; they feel like an antagonist. The film doesn't rely on the de-aging CGI or virtual LED "Volume" sets that dominate today's blockbusters; instead, it relies on the oldest tech in the book: a human face trying to figure out a problem.

However, the gimmick is also the film's Achilles' heel. Because the narrative has to be simple enough for an unscripted actor to follow, the actual mystery is... well, it’s a bit thin. If you’ve seen more than three kidnapping thrillers in your life (say, Prisoners or Taken), you’ll likely see the "twist" coming long before Edmond does. The third act takes a sharp turn into more traditional thriller territory, and it’s here where the improvisational energy starts to clash with the needs of a tidy Hollywood ending. The finale feels like it belongs to a much dumber movie than the first hour suggested.

Ultimately, My Son is a fascinating experiment that is slightly better than the sum of its parts. It succeeds as a showcase for James McAvoy's incredible instincts and as a moody, atmospheric slice of Scottish noir. While the plot itself won't win any awards for originality, the tension of watching an actor walk a tightrope without a net is worth the 95-minute investment. It’s a film that asks us to value the "now" over the "rehearsed," a sentiment that feels particularly poignant in our era of algorithmic storytelling.

It might not be a masterpiece, but in a world of predictable franchise beats, I’ll take a rainy, unscripted mess any day of the week. Just make sure you have a warm blanket nearby—you can practically feel the Highland chill through the screen.