LEAN ON PETE B+
Great Britain (121
mi) 2017
d: Andrew Haigh Official
site [UK]
It is true that we are
weak and sick and ugly and quarrelsome but if that is all we ever were, we
would millenniums ago have disappeared from the face of the earth.
—Journal of a Novel,
from letters written in 1951 by John Steinbeck about his longest novel, East of Eden, published a year later,
also quoted in Willy Vlautin’s 2010 novel
British-born writer/director Andrew Haigh, creator of Weekend
(2011) and 45
Years (2016), is known for making naturalistic relationship movies, probing
character studies that intimately explore the human drama at different stages of
life, both young and old. What’s different
here is the film was not written by Haigh, but adapted from Willy Vlautin’s 2010
novel Lean on Pete, set on the
backroads of Oregon, exploring people near the bottom of America’s social and
economic spectrum. Vlautin doubles as a
singer/songwriter/guitarist for the Portland indie band The Delines, where this
film, at least, resembles an oddly beautiful portrait of the kind of people who
have been left behind in the American underclass, ordinary people affected by
the downturn in the economy, who live day to day, with little thought about
what happens tomorrow. Deluged in
personal turmoil, the film reaches for territory explored by Oregon filmmaker Kelly
Reichardt, particularly Wendy
and Lucy (2008), exploring a world of hard knocks. At the center of this universe is Charlie
Plummer as 15-year old Charley Thompson, a River Phoenix kind of role in a
coming-of-age story about a troubled kid living with his alcoholic father Ray
(Travis Fimmel) in a run-down house on the outskirts of Portland. Charley’s mother abandoned him at an early
age, just left one day and never came back, most likely due to Ray’s drinking
and carousing, always cheating with somebody else’s wife, just like Paul Newman
in Martin Ritt’s Hud
(1963), a guy with questionable moral ethics.
Charley, on the other hand, is a good-natured kid, honest and
hard-working, proud of being on the high school football team with friends back
in Spokane before work led them to Portland.
Now he can be seen running through a myriad of streets each morning,
which is the way he begins each day. Cereal
is kept in the refrigerator along with beer, as they’ve got roaches. In hearftfelt, man-to-man talks, Ray’s
fatherly advice is that the best women were all waitresses once, supposedly
words to live by, but it may simply mean Ray spent in inordinate amount of time
in diners chasing after skirts. While it
might seem peculiar to have a British director express the open frontier spirit
of the American West, like many European directors before him, Antonioni with Zabriskie
Point (1970), Wim Wenders with Paris,
Texas (1984), Paolo Sorrentino with This
Must Be the Place (2011), though this one may have more in common with
British director Andrea Arnold’s American
Honey (2016), a wrenching vision of throwaway kids in America, Haigh provides
what amounts to a landscape view, beautifully shot by Danish cinematographer Magnus
Nordenhof Jønck, as the enormity of the country eventually engulfs Charley, who
embarks on a personal odyssey of heartbreak and misfortune.
Spotted on his morning jogs is the nearby Portland Meadows
racetrack, asking around if there are any jobs, where he runs into an
unscrupulous character, Del Montgomery (Steve Buscemi), a gruff, world weary
horse trainer with a gutter mouth who seems perpetually down on his luck and
embroiled in a world of trouble, but prefers keeping the kid out of it, racing
quarter horses for a living, where he follows the circuit. Using the kid as cheap labor, he brings him
along to look after the horses while he drinks and commiserates about his fate,
racing two horses, neither one any good.
Overjoyed that he’s finally got a few dollars in his pocket to buy food,
as he’s perpetualy hungry, like most teenage boys, as his father can disappear for
days on end. This job takes him on the
road, where he sleeps on the back of the truck underneath the stars, but feels
grateful, as despite everyone’s warnings, he develops a close relationship with
one of the horses, Lean on Pete, who’s probably too old to keep racing. Along with a veteran female jockey Bonnie
(Chloë Sevigny), who’s been through the business, with Del being one of the few
offering her a chance to work, they comprise a temporary family filling a void
in his own life, which takes a downturn when a man breaks into their home and
assaults Ray for sleeping with his wife, ending up with a bullet in his belly,
along with broken glass in his intestines when he fell through a glass window. While there are indications that he might
survive, he’s in intensive care, eventually succumbing while Charley is on the
road, leaving him in a state of flux, where he moves into the horse stable next
to Lean on Pete, telling him his troubles while sleeping at the racetrack. This allows him to escape into the racing
circuit where Del resorts to unethical methods, injecting drugs or using an
electric buzzer, selling one of the horses while overracing the other, literally
running him into the ground, where he’s fated to be sold to Mexico where he’ll
be ground into horsemeat, the same fate that awaits the wild mustangs at the
end of The
Misfits (1961). Disgusted by this,
Charley seeks another option, but has no leverage in the situation, so instead
of pulling the horse around for Del, he just keeps driving into the night, with
no plan whatsoever, just running on fumes.
Short of cash, Charley can only get so far in a truck that
runs on gasoline, getting into a few touchy situations where he orders food,
including something to go for the horse, but gets caught trying to escape
without paying. While held for the
police, the manager gets distracted, allowing Charley to escape, but this is a
sign of what lies ahead. Eventually the
boy and his horse trek across the country on foot, with Charley telling Pete
the story of his life en route, stopping from time to time for food or water
along the way, knocking on doors. While
some reach out with a helping hand, others are so caught up in their own lives
that they barely notice his existence, including a pair of returning war
veterans who are more addicted to their video games than hospitality. But they keep Charley around out of
curiosity, inviting him to dinner with their racist and demeaning uncle,
routinely describing some of the gruesome horrors they witnessed, hardly
appropriate for dinner conversation, but it is a portrait of life on the
margins, where cruelty is an everyday existence. Slipping out in the night, he continues his
journey, by now setting his sights on an aunt in Wyoming, but when he calls,
she’s moved away from her last known address.
The journey becomes more grueling, wearing the same clothes across a hot
and dusty landscape, where his endless stream-of-conscious narration feels like
a metaphor for the life he’s missing, becoming more perilous when the film
descends into bleakness and criminality, breaking into homes, becoming ever
more desperate, eventually hanging out with drunks and dopers on the city streets
of Denver, finding free meals at a mission, picking up any available work to
put money in his pocket, but his cut-throat existence is a precarious one,
surrounded by petty criminals and thieves who’ve been at it much longer than he
has, taking advantage of his youthful naïveté, respecting absolutely nothing,
taking whatever they can, caring nothing about him. Smartly written, told in a realist manner,
it’s a tragic turn of events without an ounce of self-pity, literally immersed
into a world of skid row, with damnation and starvation in every direction,
seemingly with no way out. It’s a tale
of redemption, though, however hard-earned, where the trauma incurred along the
way gets its hooks in him, leaving him a broken version of his former self,
visibly imperceptable, perhaps, though internally he’s a million miles from
where he was, reflected in the stripped down acoustical refrains of an R. Kelly
song that leads to the end credits, The Worlds Greatest - Bonnie
Prince Billy - YouTube (2:26), transformed by the artist formerly known as Will
Oldham from Old
Joy (2006).
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