Showing posts with label Ben Foster. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ben Foster. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 1, 2019

2018 Top Ten List #5 Leave No Trace




Director Debra Granik on the set with (from left) actress Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie and actor Ben Foster



Director Debra Granik on the set with  cameraman Michael McDonough






LEAVE NO TRACE             A-                   
USA  (109 mi)  2018  d:  Debra Granik                     Official site

This beautiful, strange novel takes us into the foreign country where those called homeless are at home, the city is wilderness, and the greater wilderness lies beyond.
―Ursula K. Le Guin on Peter Rock’s novel My Abandonment, 2009

While Debra Granik made a documentary that few saw called STRAY DOGS (2014) about a grizzled war vet, it has been 8-years since her brilliant first feature, 2010 Top Ten Films of the Year: #3 Winter's Bone, an adaption from a novel by Ozark resident Daniel Woodrell that provided a riveting backwoods rural view of America, described as:

An outstanding film, certainly one of the films of the year, a performance driven work that digs deeper into the protectivist, individualistic spirit of America than anything else seen in recent memory, certainly matching the mood of the nation at the moment which may feel the government is overextending into the lives of private citizens.  Not sure there’s another film out there where visiting your family represents such a life-threatening risk, as the backwoods rural view of government and authority is so low here that they’ll do anything to keep it out of their life, even risk death in various confrontations with the police, as people in this neck of the woods believe that individual freedom comes with the right to exclude any and all persons from their property, including their own kin.  Of course, if they’re manufacturing crank in crystal meth labs, that might have something to do with it.

More representative of John Hillcoat’s apocalyptic The Road (2009) written by Cormac McCarthy, a father and son relationship that reverberates with quiet poetry, Granik explores a father and daughter team of survivalists living off the grid in the Oregon national parks, braving the elements, living off the land, and maintaining their composure while keeping their wits about them, basically avoiding all contact with society except for rare trips into the city of Portland for basic necessities.  Moving from camp to camp, they remain undetected, hiding their stored goods under camouflage of the forest, barely detectible to anyone passing by, regularly practicing hiding techniques, using the deep forest overgrowth to their advantage.  The park system is so vast that rangers can’t possibly cover all the wildness of the unexplored territory, allowing some to live near invisible lives.  Much like the beginning of Captain Fantastic (2016), basically a 60’s counterculture film set in contemporary times, where a family headed by a the irrepressible force of Viggo Mortensen attempts to survive in the wilderness of the Pacific Northwest, Will (Ben Foster) has retreated into the deep woods with his teenaged daughter Tom (Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie) in a shelter they created, growing their own vegetable garden, while taking baths and storing perishables in a nearby creek, where the difference is in the character of the men, as Will says little, only what’s necessary, while Tom is all ears, home-schooled by her father using old encyclopedias, yet acutely tuned into the same wavelength, avoiding contact with others, believing they are not meant for society.  Because of the degree of their avoidance, and just how successful they’ve been for so long, at first it’s hard to get a read on where they’re coming from.  Seemingly avoiding ideology altogether, this is not some utopian gesture or political statement other than an extreme refusal to conform, remaining very wary of authority of any kind, preferring to make their own rules to live by.  When they are finally discovered by rangers, they are scrutinized like never before, father and daughter separated, each evaluated by social services for motives and mental competency, which is a Kafkaesque portrait of near surreal incompatibility, humorous in just how far apart society remains in actually getting through to or understanding people like this, but it’s clear they have no intent to harm anyone and do not pose a threat to anyone, including themselves, yet they do have to cooperate with agency rules and process.  One of the multitude of questions asked (over 400, and by the eerily uninviting voice of a computer, with only 3 seconds to respond) is whether Will is a team player?  His answer “I used to be” says it all, as he recalls being part of the whole before permanently disassociating altogether.         

This reintegration process reveals plenty, as Tom is not your typical wayward and discarded kid expected to survive years in the foster system, as she has a loving and devoted father, who may himself be psychologically scarred from his military past, still waking in the middle of the night to nightmares, later learning the sounds of helicopters causes him undue stress, obviously suffering from the effects of post-traumatic stress, which he deals with in his own creative way, finding a therapeutic silence in the forest, where the only money he makes is selling ineffectual painkilling meds to fellow vets living in tent villages inside the park.  The severity of Will’s condition is only revealed in increments, becoming clearer over time, not really explored by the social service intervention, yet becoming the central core of the film, which is basically a tribute to scarred and psychologically damaged veterans, where the suicide rate is an astonishing 20 per day, accounting for 18% of the suicide deaths in the country.  Reunited and both placed in an unoccupied cabin on a tree farm, a pre-fab structure on the fringe where the owner expects Will to work for his keep, this is at best a compromise solution, remaining outside the impossible realms of being situated in a city, actually bordering the forest, but clearly part of the design is to commercially exploit the natural resources.  Because of the conundrum of Will’s inscrutability, refusing to be open to others, precious little is revealed through his eyes, especially as the film progresses, which is no minor oversight, as the condition persists, becoming the key to the film, which turns, becoming an ever-widening worldview seen through the eyes of Tom, meeting new people, having her own experiences, actually having a home, for a change, which she takes a liking to, not surprisingly, but the ordeal is too much for Will, who must abandon this arrangement, the sooner the better, despite the obvious positive impact it’s having on Tom.  This rush back into the heart of the forest feels more like a military operation, moving deep into the forest under cover of night, moving as quickly as possible, which is a test of physical stamina and extreme duress, like diving off a cliff into pure oblivion, which perhaps is the point.  Uprooted from the “real” world, unable to fathom the depths of her connections there, which are so vividly new, they press on into an unexplored wilderness, surviving a frozen night protected only by a layer of evergreens strewn upon them, it seems like lines of demarcation are developing between them, as if they’re on separate missions.  Finding an unoccupied cabin in the woods the next day, they make the best of it, warming up to a fire, finding a few cans of soup, as Tom gets settled while Will explores the terrain. 

Granik just offers a brief glimpse into Will’s psyche, as Tom goes through his possessions during his absence, finding a newspaper article about psychologically damaged veterans finding refuge in the woods.  The moment is only a second or two, but it may as well be a lifetime, suddenly etched into the deep recesses of our consciousness.  While Tom displays a domesticated flair, lighting dozens of candles for her father’s return in the dark, literally providing a beacon from the storm, but sadly he doesn’t return, found the next day lying unconscious at the bottom of a dry river bed, but still breathing.  Tom runs for help in the vacuous emptiness of the woods, incredibly flagging down a pair of ATV riders racing through the outback, who offer emergency help.  As one of them is an army medic, Will is extremely fortunate to survive, put up in a vacant trailer in a trailer park in the woods, where Tom is befriended by a concerned older woman (Dale Dickey, unforgettable as a ferocious force of nature in Granik’s earlier film) who leaves bags of food tied to trees in the woods for strangers she hasn’t seen in years and honors their privacy, with Tom expressing an urgency not to go to a hospital or be around anyone asking questions, as if they’re on the lam from the law.  Despite anyone’s initial suspicions, Tom puts all that to rest, as she’s outgoing and friendly, curious about this little forest community and how it works, becoming the darling of this set of grizzled outsiders, who have a distinct culture all of their own, finding little need for contact with anyone in town.  It’s like a saving grace, as Will is nursed back to help, relearning how to walk again from a broken ankle, lucky that it wasn’t worse, while Tom has literally blossomed before his eyes, finding friends while he remains distant and aloof, never really able to accept “other people.”  While he’s there in presence, just not in spirit, as his mind is elsewhere, needing to head back off into the woods, retreating from any contact with people.  When he’s ready to disappear again and make their escape, Tom goes reluctantly, but only to a point, finally making her stand, valuing her connection with others, even if they’re not her real family.  It’s a hushed but enthralling and heartbreaking moment, filled with a rush of emotion that’s hard-earned, where Granik allows the audience in on just how significant a moment like this is by accumulating such meticulous detail in the backdrop of their lives leading up to it, eventually leading them in different directions.  The moment feels especially rare because of how unlike anyone else Tom has been up until now, but she’s fully prepared to walk through that door into a brand new world.  Adapted from a 2009 novel, My Abandonment by Peter Rock, it’s based on true stories that appeared in newspaper articles from The Oregonian in 2004, including The Portland Oregonian articles that inspired the story [PDF] (where people contributed thousands of dollars for an education fund, but the actual couple in the story just disappeared), and a follow-up overview by Ann Robinson in 2009 that includes excerpts from the book, Northwest Writers at Work: Peter Rock | OregonLive.com.

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Hostiles











HOSTILES                 B+                  
USA  (134 mi)  2017  ‘Scope  d:  Scott Cooper

The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer.  It has never yet melted.
—D.H. Lawrence

Like a kick in the face, the film starts out as just another white revisionist view of Manifest Destiny, revisiting New Mexico in 1892 as the Indian wars are coming to an end, with a multitude of Indian prisoners languishing in cages, surrounded by cavalry units who spent their careers in endless slaughter and retribution, serving as the living examples of men used to viewing Indians as savages, which more than anything represents a savagery within the American experience itself, as frontier settlers living on what for centuries had been undisputed Indian territory were subject to sporadic raids, with Indians violently attacking them, leaving no one spared in an effort to steal their horses.  Even before the opening credits we experience one such incident, a horrific incident of gruesome violence, with renegade Comanche’s tracking down each man, woman, and child, expressed as a visceral experience through a hail of bullets and arrows, with one woman getting away (Rosamund Pike), holding a dead baby in her arms, all that’s left of her family, long afterwards showing the ferocity and madness that accompany the incident, but also playing into all the stereotypes to justify what for centuries has been a scathingly racist portrait of American history, which leaves out Indian history, telling the story only from one side, excusing America’s own brutality in order to justify wiping out Indians with a policy of genocide.  Even today, history has not been rewritten, but continues to be told from the white perspective only, where racist and demeaning slurs in the names of popular sports mascots and team names, such as the Washington “Redskins” football team, generates millions of dollars in revenue, none of which goes to Native people.  America has not been reeducated on this history, despite scholarly works by Indians and others that tell a different story, but school curriculums haven’t changed, as our perceptions of history have instead largely been formed by the myths and stereotypes generated by John Ford westerns for the last hundred years, including THE SEARCHERS (1956) starring John Wayne, an avowed Indian hater, which is on the pantheon of films listed as the greatest western of them all.  Despite our knowledge and education, what’s changed?  Which is why it’s surprising to begin exactly where previous westerns left off, with Christian Bale as Army captain Joseph Blocker, another openly unforgiving Indian hater, having spent years on the western plains witnessing multiple atrocities, some by his own hand, with no one questioning his use of “wretched savages” to express his outright contempt for Indians of all tribes and nations.  Before anyone is comfortable in their seats, the battle lines have been drawn, with Bale playing the familiar John Wayne character, firm, resolute, irrepressible, and reflective, reading about Julius Caesar’s Gallic Wars (in Latin) by the light of the campfire.

Director Scott Cooper adapted the film from an unpublished story by Donald E. Stewart (who died in 1999, a manuscript discovered by his wife afterwards, choosing Cooper to make the film), integrating familiar actors into the story, having previously worked with Christian Bale in Out of the Furnace (2013), and before that Jeff Bridges (who won Best Actor and Best Song at the Academy Awards) as a down and out country singer on the road in CRAZY HEART (2009), two films that ache with authenticity.  It’s well worth mentioning that Cooper also brought his cinematographer Masanobu Takayanagi to this film, who also shot Spotlight (2015), Silver Linings Playbook (2012), and The Grey (2011), whose unmatched artistry of filming panoramic vistas reaches superb heights, becoming the singlemost important element of the film, as the land is an unspoken character of supreme power, having been there long before white settlers arrived, even before a single human ever set foot upon its shores.  Any historical tribute to the immeasurable American landscape deserves to pay homage to its enormity and beauty, as this element alone provides somber food for thought.  To that end this film is a success, though the immensity of the entire journey tells the story, evolving into something altogether different by the end than it was at the beginning.  In that sense it’s something of a welcome surprise.  Blocker is the heart of the film, as everything revolves around him, and Bale does not disappoint, having worked familiar territory in Terrence Malick’s The New World (2005), though his outwardly racist outbursts in the beginning fall on deaf ears, as he’s known as an honorable soldier, one of the few in command to be trusted with an important mission, in this case a directive from the President of the United States, President Benjamin Harrison, who orders Blocker to accompany released Cheyenne Indian prisoner Chief Yellow Hawk (Wes Studi), stricken with terminal cancer, whose dying wish is to return with his family to his original homeland in the Valley of the Bears in Montana, a wish granted by the President as an expression of good will.  With his retirement looming, Blocker has a history with Yellow Hawk, as mortal enemies, having been on opposite sides of many battles, losing plenty of good men to his “butchery,” retaliating in kind by brutally targeting the Cheyenne with a vengeance, developing an open hatred, but despite his protestations, he’s the one placed in charge of the detail.  No sooner are they out of sight but Blocker places Yellow Hawk and his son Black Hawk (Adam Beach) in irons, looking him in the eye and stating “I know who you are,” though nothing could be further from the truth, while their women, including Black Hawk’s wife, Q’orianka Kilcher from The New World as Elk Woman, walk alongside the men on horses.  As in nearly all westerns, the Indian characters are underwritten, as we barely get a glimpse of their mistreatment and marginalization, even though they play a central part of the film’s development. 

Over time this becomes a redemption tale and a story of forgiveness, fueled by powerful performances, with the mood of the film slowly changing when they discover Rosalie Quaid (Rosamund Pike), a lone homesteader who survived a Comanche raid, losing her husband and four children, still in shock, having temporarily lost her mind, taking care of fictitious children that are already dead, then insisting upon burying them herself, uselessly scratching the dirt with her own fingers before giving way to the soldiers.  Blocker goes to great lengths to give her space and show a calm respect to this woman, promising not to hurt her, offering his tent, fully respecting her gargantuan loss, where she again goes into shock upon seeing the other Indians, literally recoiling at the sight.  Out of sympathy and respect for her obvious pain, the Indian women offer a mourning dress and blankets, with Yellow Hawk calling the Comanche acts repugnant, claiming the rogue warriors are “not of sound mind,” warning the captain however that they will return, asking to be released from irons.  When the attack comes, several men are lost, with the Cheyenne aiding in the battle, with the captain releasing the irons begrudgingly afterwards, as it’s now all hands on deck.  When they discover the last of the Comanche perpetrators dead along the wayside, it’s suggested that Yellow Hawk and his son might have been responsible, secretly acting under cover of darkness, paving the way for safe travel.  By the time they get to Colorado, Blocker agrees to transport a prisoner, Sergeant Charles Wills (Ben Foster), a convicted ax murderer, to a fort where he’ll be hanged, having slaughtered an innocent Indian family.  Rosalie prefers to continue the journey, with no train or stagecoach in the vicinity, at one point asking Blocker if he has faith, contending without it, she’d otherwise have nothing.  His telling response, “Yes I do.  But he’s been blind to what’s been going on here for a long time.”  It’s a tender moment that becomes part of a slow healing process, as the hate eventually subsides, replaced by an altogether different element of earned respect, mirrored in Rosalie as well, who quickly befriends their Indian counterparts.  Adding reinforcements to the detail, one is Ryan Bingham, a singer and actor who previously appeared in CRAZY HEART, actually writing the Best Song, performing another song by campfire, Ryan Bingham - “How Shall A Sparrow Fly” (From HOSTILES ... YouTube (2:57).  The journey is treacherous and costly, a descent into the heart of darkness, a rude awakening thinning the ranks, threatened by a lawlessness that defines the frontier, still uncivilized, yet beautifully photographed, where each has time to examine their own souls, including the prisoner who once rode with the captain in many of his campaigns, suggesting their positions could be reversed, with Blocker reminding him he was always just “doing his job,” a familiar refrain to justify murderous acts (the Adolf Eichmann defense), where viewers can weigh the cost of history and judge for themselves.  Filled with contentious obstacles faced along the way, finally arriving with a view of Yellow Hawk’s homeland, his end is near, with Blocker gently reminding him of the many friends who died by the hand of Yellow Hawk, yet “A part of me dies with you.”  While violence and hatred continue to plague this budding new nation, with open defiance a phony stand-in for freedom, it’s clear law is a concept that has not yet taken hold, where even a President’s decree is just a piece of paper, easily ignored, but what’s clearly evident is a poetry and grace in the final acts, a transformative spirit, with the vitriol cleansed amongst the dead and the weary, replaced by human decency and a noble kindness of the heart, part of the changing interior landscape, with humanity still weighing in the balance.
   
Note
Despite the glimpse of hope expressed in the final shot (from a white perspective, like the beginning of a long, redemptive journey), it should be pointed out that from an Indian point of view there is a complete absence of hope, instead a shock of horror, a reference to “the stolen generations” in Australia and Phillip Noyce’s RABBIT-PROOF FENCE (2002), where from 1910 to 1970 Aboriginal children were removed from their homes by force and raised as Christian whites, with their Native dress, customs, and history purged from their collective memories, leaving little doubt what will happen to that surviving Indian child, whose Native history certainly won’t be part of his Anglicized reeducation, with little honor paid to him for being the grandson of a Cheyenne Indian chief, a despised figure in American culture at that time.