Cody, caught in the cycle of his illness, is both an observer and one who is observed; Meeks likes shooting courtroom scenes from the bench’s perspective, putting his audience in the vantage point of the judge (Kevin P. Braig) and court staff. “Union County was filmed in collaboration with the participants of the 2025 Adult Recovery Court in Bellefontaine, Ohio,” reads a parting caption as the movie draws to a close. Watching Poulter stand up next to those real-life participants means watching him absorb what it’s like to be in their shoes to a far greater extent than most actors who play addicts get to claim. Union County appears to be an active learning environment for him, as well as his co-lead, Noah Centineo.
As Jack, Cody’s foster brother, Centineo occupies less of the screen, but drives more of the drama: He’s a wild card despite being further in the process of getting his life on track. He has court fees he can’t pay, but works a job at a lumber yard, and naturally, he gets Cody to work alongside him. The judge hopes their joint presence in the program will pay dividends for them, though he weighs this optimism against necessary reality checks regarding Jack. He’s been “up and down,” and isn’t “too far removed” from a recent positive drug screen. It’s clear what Jack’s personality–gregarious, full of energy, always smiling—portends for his future; a happy addict has no guarantee of a happy outcome, which makes the “disappearing act” quality of Centineo’s performance downright rattling.
Union County makes no judgments about what kinds of addicts Cody and Jack are. All addicts, in the eyes of the movie, its filmmaker, and its contributors, are deserving of compassion. Meeks offers a vision of what it might look like if, rather than holding addicts in contempt and resigning them to their suffering, society gave a damn about them. There is a conspicuous lack of flash in Meeks’ direction, which one may take as either a trait of his personal aesthetic or a conscious choice made in acknowledgment of his subject matter. Because the production is so grounded in authenticity, the camera, from placement to movement, remains likewise grounded—not static, but deliberate and patient in terms of when and why its position changes. Stefan Weinberger, Meeks’ cinematographer, zooms in slowly on Cody and Jack when they embrace outside the courthouse in a moment of reconnection; he pans gingerly, left and right, when Cody is taken into custody by officers in his sister, Katrina’s (Emily Meade), kitchen, bobbing ever so slightly like a buoy bumped by a seiche.
In this atmosphere of gentle semi-vérité cinema, Poulter’s starry presence threatens to distract in the abstract. He’s a known quantity, and known quantities tend to bring their exterior baggage, for better or worse, into their work. But the work here is superb, and facilitated by the degree to which we notice him reckoning with the blunt truths facing Cody through every second of his recovery. It helps especially that Union County backgrounds him amid its various genuine articles, particularly Annette Deao, a chemical dependency counselor in Ohio playing a version of herself; when she speaks with Cody, Cody listens, and we do too, receiving education and experience alike.
Director: Adam Meeks
Writer: Adam Meeks
Starring: Will Poulter, Noah Centineo, Annette Deao, Emily Meade, Elise Kibler, Danny Wolohan, Kevin P. Braig
Release Date: August 14, 2026
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