THIS IS MARTIN BONNER C+
USA (83 mi) 2013
d: Chad Hartigan Official site
Like David Gordon Green, this director graduated from the
North Carolina School of the Arts, but rather than be influenced by the sublime
visual poetry of Terrence Malick, Chad Hartigan evolved from the school of
mumblecore, reflected in his first feature film LUKE AND BRIE ARE ON A FIRST
DATE (2008), which was shot in 5 days and made for just under $4,000
dollars. While it took 5 years before
his next film, costing 10 times as much to make, still an extremely low budget
effort, winner of the Audience Choice in the limited budget Best of NEXT
category at Sundance, this is a stylistic departure for the director, crafting
a quietly unassuming character sketch following the lonely lives of two
individuals whose lives intersect. While
we don’t realize it initially, both are lost souls whose lives are defined by a
quiet desperation, though each approach their situation in life through
differing paths. Martin Bonner (Paul
Eenhoorn) is something of a quietly relaxed Australian lookalike of Ian Holm, a
father of two grown children, sporting a wrinkled brow with grayish hair
turning nearly white, whose kindly accessible manner reflects the years he
spent as a business manager for a Catholic church, a theology student who
displayed a devotion to his faith throughout his career until he got fired
after his divorce—something about violating the church’s position. When we catch up to him he’s interviewing an
angry black prisoner (Demetrius Grosse) for a faith-based non-for-profit
organization in Reno, Nevada about a transition back into the community where
they help prisoners adjust to the outside world. While the interchange is extremely loud and
confrontational by the prisoner, who only seems interested in getting his
sentence reduced, Martin’s calm and matter-of-fact response makes no promises,
but suggests they can be a positive and helpful bridge back to the
outside. While he’s new on the job, he
seems to believe it, but the prisoner is cautiously pessimistic and openly
defiant, which sets the tone for the film, which is about starting over after a
lengthy period of disillusionment and pain, where it’s time to restore some
degree of balance and harmony in their lives.
In another encounter, Martin is seen picking up another
prisoner who is just being released, Travis (Richmond Arquette), who is actually
assigned to one of the other staff members, but Martin drives him into town and
offers him breakfast before dropping him off at a non-descript motel. The film then splits the screen time between
these two men, where Travis literally has no one but the four blank walls of
his motel, where his freedom only accentuates a feeling of abandonment, as if
society has discarded this individual that it has no use for. A clever device repeated throughout the film
are brief spurts of wordless imagery, one of the few explorations of the
interior realm, as Travis steps outside to explore his surroundings, set to hauntingly
beautiful music of Keegan DeWitt, where the music feels like an echo effect to
the aching loneliness he feels. Martin
routinely calls his two grown children, where his daughter recently had a baby,
making him a grandfather, and is happy to hear from him, while his son works as
an artist and never returns his calls.
This practice defines his non-existent family life, however, as it is
surviving on the skeletal remains.
Travis is seen listening to the church sermon before joining in an
overly polite Sunday dinner with his program sponsor Steve (Robert Longstreet)
and his wife, both devout believers, where Travis is seen on his best
behavior. The banalities of the film’s
dialogue (written by the director) becomes literally suffocating, as many would
simply bolt before having to endure such insipid conversation. This growing tedium actually defines the
film, as it feels expressionless and downright boring. And while it’s meant to stand for the
enveloping emptiness that haunts these men’s lives, it does nothing to sustain
the audience’s interest, which has to endure this unalluring monotony as
well.
But Travis eventually calls Martin, as he feels more
comfortable talking around him, as his life is not so consumed by religion,
where he seems more like a regular guy.
While Martin has a job, Travis has literally nothing, as society has
quite literally cast out any sense of obligation to prisoners, even after
they’re released, where he’s little more than a forgotten statistic, a
non-existing entity. Other than these
religious outreach programs, there are few organizations that recognize his
existence, exemplified by a trip to the local DMV where he hears the spiel
about what he has to do in order to regain his driving privileges, where
learning how to be an airplane pilot might be an easier route. At least Martin befriends the guy over a cup
of coffee, where Martin’s own shortcomings come into play. Throughout the film there are continual
attempts to find a way out of this deafening silence imposed by their societal
isolation, but all they really hear is the sound of their own voices reminding
them of how little progress they’ve made.
When Travis tries to reunite with his grown daughter Diana (Sam
Buchanon), who he hasn’t seen in over a dozen years, she agrees to visit from
Arizona by Greyhound bus and spend an afternoon, so he turns to Martin for
help, as he has no confidence whatsoever in his own social skills which have
eroded considerably while wasting away behind bars. And true to form, when they meet, Travis is
ridiculously inept in re-establishing contact, where there remain unresolved
issues over what sent him to jail in the first place, as he was convicted of
drunken vehicular manslaughter, inadvertently killing someone in an auto
accident, an act that continues to plague both Diana and Travis with a great
deal of shame. This is a continuing
theme hovering over both men, as neither are proud of themselves, haunted by
their past failures, where they’re attempting to not let that define their
lives, but guilt is a strong emotion, and despite their best attempts, it
continues to latch onto them with an unbreakable grip, where really all they
can do is lead lives that resemble the type of people they prefer to be, even
if it feels like they’re only pretending.
Ultimately, this is a dramatically low key and nearly inert film about
how difficult it is attempting to learn how to relive your life after an
extended dormant period where you didn’t trust or believe in yourself, where
the banalities of ordinary existence are all that’s left for you to cling to
for support.
