Showing posts with label Debra Granik. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Debra Granik. 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, December 17, 2013

Out of the Furnace

















OUT OF THE FURNACE                  B-       
USA  Great Britain  (116 mi)  2013  ‘Scope  d:  Scott Cooper

Having only made two films, it’s hard not to compare, as Cooper’s first feature CRAZY HEART (2009) took the cinema world by storm, a small gem of a story about the hard life on the country music circuit told with an aching authenticity, winning a Best Actor award for Jeff Bridges, who also sings the Oscar winning Best Song.  Changing directions here, a more grim and downbeat story, Cooper has chosen a distinctly working class American mill town in Pennsylvania steel country, where jobs are scarce and sympathy is non-existent.  Everybody does what they can in this environment, receiving few accolades or rewards in life.  Reminiscent of films like TWICE IN A LIFETIME (1985) or THE DEER HUNTER (1978), which Cooper pays a distinct homage to, these films have a connection to the land upon which they’re based, where untold stories of hardship speak to settings like Braddock, Pennsylvania, not far from Pittsburgh, an area that was part of an economic boom in the 50’s and 60’s when American steel mills were at their peak.  But today the population is around 2100, where the dual economic downturns of the 80’s when the blast furnaces closed and then again in 2009 when the foreclosure disaster took the life blood out of these towns, leaving boarded-up houses, vacant lots, and enormous rusted out and decaying mill structures still standing, now seen as eyesores on the desolate urban landscape.  While there is a closing credit:  This film was shot entirely and proudly on Kodak film, it’s been strangely transformed to digital, giving it a grainy and processed look instead of something more natural, as if the humanity has been squeezed right out of the film itself.  Opening and closing to Eddie Vedder singing Pearl Jam songs, which you’d think would be a perfect blue collar fit for a modern era ghost town, but the director indicated he felt Vedder’s voice could be overpowering, taking the focus away from what’s presented onscreen, so he chose Tindersticks’ guitarist Dickon Hinchliffe to score the film.     

Almost like chapter sequences, one by one the main characters are introduced, including Woody Harrelson as Harlan DeGroat, an out of control, hillbilly shitkicker who’s always hopped up on crystal meth, Christian Bale as Russell Baze, one of the men working in the mill, and his brother Rodney (Casey Affleck), who refuses to go anywhere near the place, choosing any other way to make a living, an Army veteran serving several tour of duties in Iraq.  Russell has a happy relationship going with a local grade school teacher Lena, Zoë Soldana, while also helping to look after his elderly and seriously ill father, along with his Uncle Red, Sam Shepard.  This close family unit and deranged outsider are destined to meet at some point, but not until much later in the film.  Bale’s Russell couldn’t be more understated, a man of few words, but loyal and outwardly friendly, where he’s seen as a good man that bad things happen to, one of the victims of the economic crunch, where he’s continually bailing out his brother’s debts to the local bookie, Willem DaFoe as John Petty, who keeps an office in the back of the local saloon.  It’s after having a drink with Petty that Russell has a deadly car accident killing several people, including a small boy, sending him off to several years in prison (in the gothic confines of the West Virginia State Penitentiary in Moundsville, operating from 1867 to 1995).  Lena refuses to experience the grim prison reality, but Rodney keeps his brother appraised of life on the outside, including the eventual death of his father.  By the time he gets out, Lena has left him for the local police chief (Forest Whitaker), leaving an emptiness in his life that seemingly can’t be filled.  But he doesn’t go get drunk or do something drastic, he just feels the solitude of being alone, where he remains emotionally imprisoned even though he’s back on the outside.  This is perhaps best expressed in a deer hunting scene where he and Uncle Red head out into the forest, where he quietly comes upon a male buck, but hesitates to shoot, as he hasn’t the heart to kill anymore after killing two innocent people. 

Meanwhile, Rodney does under-the-table, bare knuckle fights (instead of Christopher Walken’s Russian roulette), which is how he pays off some of his debts to Petty, a kind of repugnant way of making a buck, often returning battered and bruised, reminiscent of the excellent Walter Hill Depression movie with Charles Bronson, HARD TIMES (1975), who makes a living the same way.  Tired of nickel and dime fights, however, Rodney demands some real action from Petty, something that will pay off his entire debt and actually get him somewhere.  Warned repeatedly about how savage these men are up in the Appalachians, described as “inbred mountain folk from Jersey,” some of whom never come down off that mountain, nonetheless Rodney forces his hand.  The parallel aerial views of the drives to the fight scene and the deer hunt are carefully choreographed, leaving no question that the hunt is on, one animal and the other human, both equally barbaric and ferocious when seen from the view of the one being hunted.  These primitive practices stand at the center of what was once a proud and thriving city, now economically stripped to the bone where savagery rules.  It’s here that Masanobu Takayanagi’s darkened, washed out cinematography becomes truly hideous, as Harlan DeGroat represents the scum of the earth, the very worst of America, where violence is a blood sport, with bodies left buried somewhere in the woods never to be seen again, with the police nowhere to be found.  When Rodney turns up missing, this pits Russell against the police chief, the guy who stole his girl, further angered at the apparent inaction of the police, where there’s a moral void at the center of the absence of responsibility.  It’s not just the ominous music of the Tindersticks that this film shares, but also the bleak, atmospheric portrait of an isolated, mountain society from Debra Granik’s 2010 Top Ten Films of the Year: #3 Winter's Bone (2010), which shows us part of the closed-off economic devastation we rarely see.  Despite the influence of Leonardo DiCaprio and Ridley Scott as high-priced producers, and superb performances from the leads, what’s missing is a more closely observed script, co-written by Cooper and Brad Ingelsby, completely lacking the focus and meticulous detail of Granik’s backwoods portrait of rural America, which utilized locals in the cast.  Instead what we get is a weary and worn out America, tired of sacrificing so much for this country, and getting so little back in return, as Eddie Vedder sings an updated version of Pearl Jam’s “Release” Pearl Jam - Release from the dvd "The kids are twenty" - YouTube (4:44) over the end credits.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

2012 Top Ten Films of the Year: #1 Beasts of the Southern Wild










BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD          A                     
USA  (91 mi)  2012  d:  Benh Zeitlin                             Official site

I see that I am a little piece of a big, big universe, and that makes it right.   
—Hushpuppy (Quvenzhané Wallis)

A film that comes with accolades, having won awards at Cannes and Sundance, which may play into the audience’s preconceived expectations of what an acclaimed film is *supposed* to be, but if New York has its post 9/11 films, like 25th HOUR (2002), then this is among the most evocative post Katrina films from Louisiana, the most definitive, of course, being Spike Lee’s journalistic exposé WHEN THE LEVEEES BROKE: A REQUIEM IN FOUR ACTS (2006).  One has to wonder what David Gordon Green thinks of this film, which is arguably as good or better than anything he’s ever done, as it’s an original composite of his indie style films (that he all but invented but doesn’t make anymore) like George Washington (2000) and the magnificent poetry of Julie Dash’s DAUGHTERS OF THE DUST (1991), which this most closely resembles, especially capturing the harshness and beauty of a remote island culture, using a child narrator throughout whose inner thoughts transcend the poverty-laden conditions of their world with an uncanny elegance and nobility.  Though the filmmaker happens to be Jewish from Queens, New York, studying with the great Czech animator Jan Svankmajer, he actually wrote this film with co-writer Lucy Alibar in summer camp when they were both teenagers, where the film is their adaptation of her play Juicy and Delicious, changing the protagonist from a boy to a little girl, before he moved to Southern Louisiana where he’s lived for the past six years and made the short film GLORY AT SEA (2008), which can be seen here:  Watch Benh Zeitlin's incredible short GLORY AT SEA YouTube (25:48).  Interestingly, the film title, Beasts of the Southern Wild, comes from a 1973 collection of short stories by Doris Betts, also mentioned in the opening line of William Blake’s 1789 poem The Little Black Boy The Little Black Boy by William Blake : The Poetry Foundation.

Apparently dividing audiences along many of the same lines as Terrence Malick’s equally enthralling The Tree of Life (2011), both films couldn’t be more visually intoxicating, rich in atmospheric detail, touching the very soul of man through intensely personal journeys, where the key is developing a shared emotional understanding, like opening a new window to the world around you.  This is a fiercely independent feature, shot on Super 16mm by Ben Richardson, which intentionally takes much of the picturesque beauty out of the movie, leaving a naturalistic film that actually feels like the raw edge of the universe, a place where the last inhabitants of earth might dwell.  This apocalyptic, end-of-the-world scenario runs throughout the film, which prominently features the possibility of rising floods, toxic environmental conditions, and abandoned children.  The entire film is seen through the point of view of a 6-year old girl, Hushpuppy, the sensational Quvenzhané Wallis, just one in a cast entirely comprised of non-professionals, who lives with her drunk and perpetually angry father Wink (Dwight Henry, a local baker in real life) in the squalor of the Delta backwoods, where they live in hand-built corrugated tin structures that resemble dilapidated trailers on a tiny island in the flood plains south of New Orleans nicknamed the Bathtub (fictitiously modeled on a real place, The Island - Isle de Jean Charles), as once another storm hits, the levee was built to protect wealthier residents, while the Bathtub is destined to be submerged under water.  “They think we're all gonna drown down here, but we ain't going nowhere.”  With this in mind, her father teaches her to be strong, to survive, pretty much forcing her to fend for herself against the elements.

The unique touch here is the inventive use of the imagination, where heightened realism becomes fantasy, which is inherently part of a child’s view of the world, where strange prehistoric monsters called aurochs once ruled the earth that would just as soon eat people for breakfast, where Hushpuppy is driven to find her place in the universe and leave her mark, but she is constantly threatened by these giant creatures that still exist in her mind.  She internalizes their presence whenever life is threatened, where they become a symbol of death knocking at the door, and if this film does anything, it provides a rich, atmospheric blend of love and death, where both couldn’t feel more intensely real.  This extremely well developed inner realm is the real surprise of the film, where there’s a subtle complexity that just has a way of touching people, where it is the director’s choice to stray away from narrative, to allow the story to evolve without definition, where some may find the community where they live a band of drunken misfits and outcasts, where filth is strewn everywhere, hardly worth caring about, but others may understand it as protecting a nearly extinct way of life, living off the land much like the Indians did, where Wink makes a nearly unnoticed remark about not wanting to eat food from a supermarket, a concept that’s hard for most people to understand.  These isolated individuals have a zealously paranoiac view of government as completely untrustworthy, obtained from incidents like The Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment — Infoplease.com and centuries of lies and historical mistreatment in Louisiana, where in their view government serves and protects the wealthy and all but ignores the needs of the poor, where so many end up languishing in prison, as Louisiana has the highest incarceration rate in the world (>: Louisiana's Incarceration Rate "Highest in the World") also (La.'s incarceration rate leads nation - Law Enforcement News).  So it’s no surprise those in the Bathtub, both black and white, relish living free in their own homes, outside the reach of government, seen as one of the last bastions of freedom and individuality.  

Part of the film’s innate strength is its unpredictability, which beautifully matches the journey of a young child who never knows what’s happening next in her life, where each day brings something new.  Rather than depict an idealized world, Hushpuppy’s mother “swam away” when she was young, and her father is extremely harsh, often brutal with her, forcing her to stand up to him or cower in defeat.  While these backward ways will not win any new converts, and may resemble uneducated Appalachian hill people who live largely outside the law, raising their own to survive in a hostile and unforgiving world around them, Hushpuppy is both angered and drawn to her father, developing one of the fiercest expressions of loyalty ever conceived on film, which is what makes this unlike other Sundance award winners or indie projects.  The subtlety of the writing and direction is remarkable, as this outsiderist community mindset is not immediately apparent, but comes to be understood over time, much like the carefully crafted, meticulously conceived backwoods Ozark community in Debra Granik’s 2010 Top Ten Films of the Year: #3 Winter's Bone.  Both films are closely observed, without an ounce of condescension or moral pretense, carefully outlining the landscape, people, and regional habits.  One of the unique aspects of the film is demonstrating how huge the psychic divide is in dealing with the underclass, where even well meaning government officials can’t begin to understand what it means for this group to be separated from their homes.  Part of this is likely a self-inflicted trauma of the uneducated that is entirely based on fear of the unknown, but among the many strengths of the film are both the creation of such a startlingly strange and mysterious world of self-sufficiency and also the empathetic tone towards the people living in it, as the audience has no familiarity and knows virtually nothing about this island culture ahead of time, yet the world outside the theater may look altogether different afterwards when coming out of this film. 

While the mystically insightful narration, obviously wise beyond her years, cannot compete with the originality of Julie Dash’s film, where an unborn child is among the surrealistic swirl of narrators, this more closely resembles Terrence Malick’s spare yet brutally honest poetry from 12-year old Linda Manz in DAYS OF HEAVEN (1976), quite a standard to live up to, as that performance feels unparalleled.  While this is something different altogether, it’s significant that one is reaching into this rarified cinematic air for comparisons, as this film similarly grasps a child’s state of grace and wonder.  The music created by Dan Romer and the director is a perfect fit, blending quiet, solitary moments with rousing pieces of Americana that literally soar, like this incredibly uplifting 4th of July fireworks celebration, BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD: "Stay Right Here" YouTube (1:37).  At times, as they float down the river in a makeshift raft, the film recalls the enchantment of The Night of the Hunter (1955) where Lillian Gish reminds us of the resiliency of children, telling us “They abide.”  Consider a late scene in a dance club, aka brothel, appropriately enough called Elysian Fields, bathed in a dim light and a near wordless state where Fats Waller music plays in the background.  As the women quietly find a child partner to dance with, their bodies swaying with the music, it’s remarkable how much emotion is conveyed with so little effort, where Hushpuppy is mesmerizing to watch as a maternal life-sustaining force is literally breathed back into her tired body.  This endlessly provocative and hauntingly beautiful film exhibits a dazzling visual flair along with an unusual tenderness and sensitivity towards the characters, becoming one of the most believable yet impossibly involving dramatic works, literally stringing together seemingly random pieces of interconnected parts all blended together into a magical realist tale that summons the heroic journeys of Odysseus in his perilous, fraught-with-adventure search for home, but experienced here through the eyes of a child mostly knee-deep in mud in the backwoods of the Mississippi Bayou.  The film itself is a quest for discovery and a search for meaning, a challenge to our own cynical and condescending views, becoming nothing less than a mythical expression of joy and heartbreak, a ferocious portrait of the will to survive, where only by staring death in the face can you begin to discover the world around you, one of the best expressions of redemptive and transcendent filmmaking seen in the past decade.