Another minimalist work from one of the creators of
Mumblecore, which may have its devotees, some praising the so-called naturalism
expressed, but the problem seems to be no creative idea ahead of time, where
these films are made up as they go along.
What little story there is can be lost in the minutiae of daily life,
where these filmmakers love capturing random moments where lives intersect,
expecting something of interest to be found through improvisation, but mostly
what’s revealed are dull and uninteresting characters who are never developed
through any dramatic complexity, but just exist in the aimlessness of the
present. Swanberg has made six movies in 2011, four movies in 2012, and three movies in
2013. That’s over a dozen movies in just 3
years, compared to Tarkovsky, for instance, one of the greats, who made just 8
films in his entire career, or Cassavetes who made 12, but they were considerably
more thought out and brilliantly conceived *before* shooting than the likes of
this, a film that’s typically not really about anything, and where nothing ever
seems to matter. Opening with Jane Adams
as Marie, an independent actress, where we see her on the phone talking to her
agent about two projects, one where she didn’t get the part, while the other is
getting a go ahead, with no firm commitment, however, about financing. So while we may think this reality reflects
the financial instability of making American independent films on the fly,
think again, as Marie soon arrives at her beachfront Malibu home with windows
and a balcony overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean. Typically of many films we see these days,
despite the enormous wealth needed to afford an idyllic home like this, we
never see anyone in the film actually work for a living. Instead these films play out like working
class fantasies, where the players involved supposedly represent someone’s idea
of success.
What’s problematic, however, is that when we finally spend
time with the characters living this dream, they don’t hold an ounce of
interest, as their lives are even more boring than our own, and the audience
often questions why they deserve all the fringe benefits of a good life
overlooking the ocean, when they’ve seemingly done nothing to earn it. This moral and economic vacuum is visually on
display, with panoramic shots of the ocean throughout, but the truth of the
matter is the film doesn’t even attempt to address this issue. Instead we suffer through the machinations of
ordinary moments with dull and witless people from Southern California who
spend their time eating health foods and taking dope, consumed by the idea of
youth and sex, even while relationships are almost nonexistent in their lives,
as moments of intimacy are supremely awkward, and sex is nearly absent. Marie goes gaga over a visit from her niece
from New York, Faye, Sophia Takal, a much younger version of herself, more
attractive, but following in her footsteps as she is just starting to get into
the acting business. Their scenes
together consist of Marie talking endlessly about God knows what, with Faye
smiling politely, presumably listening, but there’s no interaction
whatsoever. Faye has a boyfriend that
she’s crazy about, where they have late night skype sessions over the computer
while Marie puts herself to sleep while listening to the endless drone of a
psychiatric self-help monologue. The
next morning, Marie concocts some natural kelp juice from her blender, and the
two pretend to enjoy it.
Swanberg dots the film with a smattering of other
characters, including an appearance from horror director Ti West as a sleazy LA
director that wants to get into Faye’s pants, but the most interesting is next
door neighbor Rusty, indie perennial Larry Fessenden, an offbeat character who
drinks beer and is perpetually optimistic, where he and Marie go paddle
boarding in the ocean together, but his roving eye is usually scoping out
younger girls. Their habit of wearing
wet suits into the ocean in sunny California seems like the latest craze, as
they’re never seen far enough off shore to really justify the need. Mostly Marie spends her time with Dan (Kent
Osborne), a guy who is perpetually stoned, where sleeping together is an expected
formality, while also being something they’d both quickly like to forget. Enter Simon Barrett as a science geek who
spends his time talking endlessly about various solar projects in the works, “harvesting”
wind and solar energy, where perhaps Marie is delving into the subject for a
part she’s playing, but a good deal of the film is spent hearing about earth’s
relationship to the sun, as evidenced by various technological gadgets that
measure the sun’s rays and the overall presence of light. Science, one supposes, is the reality they
are all avoiding in this film, deluding themselves about ephemeral pleasures and
the so-called happiness of youth, when most are not so young anymore. There’s an interesting parallel about the shoreline
eroding, showing the natural world aging, where these beautiful homes will
eventually be swept into the sea, a metaphor for their own youthful lives that
also eventually wear down over time. But
the overall mood seems to be why worry about that today when there are still so
many more insipidly dull existential moments one can aspire to. Without the physical presence of ocean, whose
magnificent expanse allows the audience to breathe and provides its own timeless
beauty, this superficial view of life in Southern California feels like slow
death via mindlessness and claustrophobic suffocation.
