Waves

Director Edward Trey Shults

WAVES             B                 

USA  (136 mi)  2019  d:  Edward Trey Shults

An ambitious project that feels troubled right off the bat, as a white director attempts to tell an extremely personalized suburban black story in South Florida, with mixed results, especially when relying upon pyrotechnic visual effects and loud, explosive music to set the mood, where the aggressive stylistic flourishes feel audaciously overdone, like the narcotic induced dream landscape where all moral boundaries have been crossed in Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers (2012), growing awkwardly pretentious, relying upon stereotypes, feeling utterly cliché’d, particularly the view of an angry, out of control black teenager, Kelvin Harrison Jr. as Tyler, where the feeling in the room is that this is the wrong messenger for this film.  In fact, the initial story has racist implications when told from a white director, turning the lead character into an O.J. Simpson figure in high school, a testosterone driven athlete flying into a jealous rage, as if crazed by madness, becoming the stereotypical angry black man as projected by whites, where he becomes the personification of pure evil.  His spoiled arrogance and sense of entitlement is more reflective of white suburban mentality than black, where the enormity of the house is mindboggling, something rarely seen in black films.  Even in the aftermath of this agitated turmoil, a white character swoops in and falls in love with a young black girl, another white idealization, where the first half is cringeworthy in its problematic and embarrassingly shallow racial depiction, steeped in the exaggerated melodrama of an afterschool special, almost deserving of a walk-out.  However, due to the ambitious nature of the film, it shifts into something else altogether for the second half, reminiscent of Ned Benson’s 2014 Top Ten List #8 The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them, changing focus to a different character, Tyler’s younger sister Emily who was a nonfactor until then, becoming quieter, more somberly reflective, targeting her inner sanctum, where the actress Taylor Russell is surprisingly good, adding length, altering the emphasis of the story to a female perspective, allowing new interior life to breathe and rediscover itself.  Losing the overeliance on overtly masculine, music video effects, the film calms down and becomes more poetically effective.  Still, it’s a mysteriously strange film that is all over the map in terms of a compelling emotional odyssey, using American landscapes to break free and enlarge the spacious overall reach.    

Tyler is a high school senior on the wrestling team, a highly competitive sport that is driven by overly zealous coaches that push them to the limits, as does his domineering father (Sterling K. Brown), who instills obsessive habits, training him personally, where the male authority figures teach him to become superhuman, that to become a champion he’ll need to ignore the pain and all outside noise, focusing only upon winning.  While most wrestlers are extremely conscientious about what they eat or drink, maintaining strict weight requirements, Tyler can be seen partying with rambunctious friends indulging in alcohol and drugs, while also stealing pain pills from his father that he eats like candy to cover for an undisclosed injury on his shoulder that turns out to career ending, yet he stupidly refuses to listen, as if he’s invincible, while hiding the truth from his parents, pretending he’s fine, until he permanently injures himself in a match, which completely changes his identity, as being the strongest guy is no longer who he is.  More importantly, his girlfriend Alexis (Alexa Demie) announces she’s pregnant, where he goes through the motions of being sympathetic, taking her to an abortion clinic, but she’s severely affected by the protesters outside and changes her mind.  The wheels fall apart after that, as she wants to keep the baby, which drives him apoplectic, as he can’t control her behavior.  His rage is so significant that she breaks up with him and cuts him off her phone, even going to the school prom with another guy, which sends Tyler so out of control that he drinks heavily, tears up his room in anger, steals his father’s car keys, then throws him out of the way before heading out for the school prom where he literally stalks Alexis, cornering her in a remote area, flying into an angered rage before physically assaulting her, leaving her inert on the ground, not moving.  The sounds of a girl screaming at what she sees sends him bolting out the door, leaving the scene of the crime, frantically running away, but he’s arrested in short order, given a life sentence where he’s eligible for parole in thirty years.  As this is happening, his parent’s marriage crumbles and falls apart, with the stepmother (Renée Elise Goldsberry) blaming the father for excessively pushing him, not allowing him to fail, always having to be perfect, leaving them both emotionally distraught, while Emily finds herself cut off from her distant parents, without anyone to talk to at school, eating lunch outside alone, keeping earphones in her ears, remaining aloof and isolated, a forlorn figure of extreme alienation. 

In the aftermath of tragedy and loss, the film turns on a dime and unexpectedly follows Emily, which is a pleasant surprise, though due to all the hatefully vile comments about her brother on social media she deletes her account, which is the first step in taking her life back.  The rest of the film is an odyssey of self-discovery, which includes a lengthy road trip, but is largely an impressionistic mosaic of music-fueled imagery that mirrors her inner growth.  Initially the film was actually conceived as a musical, actually writing the songs into the script, but that changed in development, though more than 40 musical tracks are profoundly influential and carry the emotional weight, in effect becoming the sound design of the film.  When an awkward initial meeting takes place between Emily and a white student Luke (Lucas Hedges), he asks her out to lunch, eventually spending more time with her, actually drawing her out of her shell, viewed as a kind of rebirth, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, as portrayed by SZA, Pretty Little Birds - YouTube (4:05) or Frank Ocean, Frank Ocean - Seigfried - YouTube (5:34), allowing a creeping romanticism to develop.  Both come from broken families, as her brother’s in prison and her mother died at an early age, while his alcoholic father has been absent from his life, still holding plenty of resentment against him.  Emily’s personal insight and maturity level is off the charts, so when he gets word his father is dying in a hospital in Missouri, she proposes a road trip to visit him, which alters the look of the film, suddenly juxtaposing images of an open road and big skies, where they’re literally finding their freedom.  Along the way she turns up the volume on one of her favorite songs on the radio, Animal Collective - Bluish (Official Video) - YouTube (5:14), which finds them sharing stories, taking side excursions to creeks and swimming holes, falling madly in love, where they are finding intimate moments that matter, suddenly revitalized, not so alone anymore.  The heartfelt moments in the hospital are devastatingly real and emotionally exhausting, making up for lost time in a matter of moments, until there are no more, which can be devastating.  This film is about internalizing those losses, finding faith and forgiveness in your heart, while gathering new strengths, new perspectives, and developing a renewed capacity for an all-embracing love.  Melancholic sorrows bring the film to a spiritual close in the form of Thom Yorke from Radiohead, True Love Waits - Radiohead on Vimeo (4:56), singing an incredibly sad song that’s hauntingly beautiful and emotionally raw, having gone through its own transformations (sung with guitars or synthesizers through the years before finally pared down to just a piano), yet aptly reflective of the overall empathic journey of the film.       

Ben Is Back

Writer/director Peter Hedges (left) with his son, lead actor Lucas Hedges

 

BEN IS BACK              B                 

USA  (103 mi)  2018  ‘Scope  d:  Peter Hedges

About as downbeat a subject as possible, especially set during the Christmas holidays, yet as upbeat and quirky as PIECES OF APRIL (2003) is as a Thanksgiving movie, this couldn’t delve into more miserablist territory for Christmas.  An interesting subject for a father and son movie, as the writer/director Peter Hedges features his own son Lucas Hedges as the ghost of Christmas past, whose violently painful experiences as a lying and cheating junkie infest an otherwise likeable family with dour memories of yesteryear.  Tinged with gloomy elements of stark realism about addiction that simply overwhelm your typical Hollywood family melodrama starring celebrity darling Julia Roberts as the spirited (and foul-mouthed) mother determined to see it through with her troubled son on the verge of relapse and contaminating yet another Christmas for this family.  While the director is also the author of the masterfully distinctive first novel What’s Eating Gilbert Grape in 1991, turned into an outstanding movie two years later, this is a more darkly mainstream effort, likely to surprise many viewers who are expecting a more cheerful Julia Roberts holiday experience, yet it does touch upon an extremely relevant issue, particularly in rural America, where the opioid crisis is real and dangerously out of control.  This town has a uniquely familiar look to it, lightly layered in snow that could be anywhere in America, with a church representing the social center, a gathering place for the town’s familiar faces, a place to set aside their differences and pray for a better world, with children dressed up in home-made costumes as angels, shepherds and even sheep, playing out the nativity scene, accompanied by a choir singing familiar hymns.  This exact same scenario plays out across the country during the Christmas season, with parents proudly displaying eager approval for their children, where there’s a beautiful innocence to it all, unstained by rancor and cynicism.  Like the presence of Robert Mitchum in The Night of the Hunter (1955) or CAPE FEAR (1962), danger lurks just outside in the shadows threatening the safety net of middle class security and white privilege.

With the return of 19-year old addict Ben Burns (Lucas Hedges) to his family, supposedly doing so well in his 77-day rehab effort to stay sober that he is rewarded with an early Christmas Eve release, this is divided into two distinctly different films, the first half when we suspect he’s lying, and the second half when we know he’s lying, as the shift of tone from optimism to pessimism couldn’t be more radically different, throwing a screwball at the audience, wondering just how down to earth can they get?  Opening as an otherwise happy suburban family preparing to enjoy the holidays together, we meet a mixed race household, with Holly (Julia Roberts) married to a black husband, Neal (Courtney B. Vance), with two children from a previous marriage, Ben and his younger sister Ivy (Kathryn Newton), and two adorable biracial children, Liam and Lacey.  With Ben waiting outside their home, Holly in particular is overjoyed to see her son, while Ivy is openly suspicious, and Neal even more so, as they’ve been burned on Christmas twice before, and now he’s apparently violating his agreement to completely get well before returning home.  Alarms are immediately triggered, as Holly hides the medicine and jewelry, anything that could be perceived as a temptation, while Ben tells a story of progress and encouragement, claiming his sponsor recommended this visit and he’s so glad to be back, hugging the dog and the young children, who are oblivious to his earlier transgressions.  At the first hint that things might not be going as well as it seems, Holly lays down the law, demanding a clean urine test and an ability to stay completely within her sight for 24-hours, which he readily agrees to, though what follows is his ability to skirt the line, seemingly at ease, confounding his mother every step of the way, who’s already angry at the others for giving up on him so easily.  A harrowing visit to a Christmas Eve church service leaves Ben stung by the “goodness” of it all, personally overwhelmed at his inability to meet the moral standard, while of greater significance is Holly’s personal acknowledgment to a neighbor sitting nearby, Mrs. Conyers (Rachel Bay Jones), who lost her daughter to addiction, with Ben blaming himself, as he was her dealer and got her interested in drugs in the first place.  Why did he live and not her, feeling he was the one that deserved to die.  With these kinds of issues running around in his head, Holly urges him to be grateful that he’s alive, as every minute and every second is a precious gift. 

The moment they return home, however, the house has been broken into, with someone taking the family dog.  All eyes point to Ben, as he has been the culprit before, and is now at the center of what just happened as well, slipping out the door in a panic, separating himself from his family.  With that, her family once again threatened, destabilized, and in a state of panic, Holly goes on a mission to find him.  While initially it’s not hard, as he’s only gone a short ways down the road, but he’s blaming himself, telling his mother he’s been lying all along, that his sponsor never recommended this visit, and that she should never believe an addict, as lying is what they do.  With a newly discovered need to be totally honest and truthful with himself, he has to get to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting, with his mother following along, admitting to things she never knew, having the learn hard truths about her son’s troubled and conflicted life, still in search of the dog, not sure who from his past life would do such a thing, taking a tour of his former sins, where perfectly respectable homes are met with comments like “I used there, I stole there.”  What they experience is an upheaval of shame, revisiting the scenes of a crime, where he’s the drug dealer and master thief, putting himself back into precarious positions, where each sordid revelation is a doorway to hell that he now has to climb back into in search of who hates him most.  This takes him to dangerous locations, not the kind you bring your mom to see, so he ditches her at an all-night convenient store, taking the vehicle where he is finally out on his own.  This nasty turn of events also reveals how Holly has been protecting him, not telling the truth to her own family, enabling him, jeopardizing their lives, hoping that somehow this time it would be different.  This dark leap into the unknown turns this into thriller territory, not knowing what to expect, but danger lurks everywhere, as over the course of the night Ben revisits the ghosts of his past, some who are homeless, still addicted, imprisoned, or dead.  It’s been years since Roberts was gifted with a role like this, searingly emotional, going to unheard of places, which includes a visit back to the home of Mrs. Conyers, as only people placed in their desperate position are prepared to know what to do in the worst circumstances.  This film doesn’t sugar coat it, as conventional society has no answer, and no commitment to find answers.  While this is an upper middle class family where Neal is quick to point out that if Ben was black he’d be in jail by now, but the family’s wealth has afforded him multiple rehab opportunities, so they’ve been through this wretched journey before, nonetheless the tone is bleak and punishing, taking us into a no man’s land that leads straight to hell where not everyone makes it back.