To Leslie

 

Director Michael Morris

Willie Nelson circa 1965

Andrea Riseborough

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TO LESLIE        B-                                                                                                                     USA  (119 mi)  2022  ‘Scope  d: Michael Morris

You’re living, right?  I’m sorry it ain’t a fairytale.  We all should have done things differently.  But you’re what’s wrong with you.  Not anyone else.                                                    —Sweeney (Marc Maron)

A small, low-budget indie film that likely would have been reduced to the ashbins of history if not for a sudden announcement that British actress Andrea Riseborough was nominated for a Best Actress award that created quite a stir, seemingly coming out of nowhere, with some questioning the legitimacy of the nomination, especially considering the last-minute social media blitz by some of the industry’s most celebrated artists, like Jane Fonda, Kate Winslet, Charlize Theron, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jennifer Aniston, Amy Adams, Paul Schrader, and Edward Norton who pushed for her nomination, with Cate Blanchett praising Riseborough as well during her acceptance speech at the Critics Choice Awards, and even former President Obama revised his best films of the year list to include this film based on her performance, yet the outcry of foul play led the Academy Board of Governors to conduct an investigation to see if any guidelines were violated, but found nothing awry, so the nomination stands.  Opening at the South by Southwest festival, the film had made only $27,000 at the box office on the day the Academy Award nominations were announced.  By contrast, heavy favorites Viola Davis and Danielle Deadwyler, black actresses in THE WOMAN KING and TILL, films that made $92 million and $10 million dollars respectively, were all the talk of pre-nomination festivities, both widely considered favorites in the category, already nominated in the SAG awards (Screen Actors Guild Awards: Homepage), while Riseborough was not.  Putting things in context, Halle Berry remains the only black woman who has ever won the Best Actress Oscar in the Academy’s 95-year history.  Despite claims of the age-old Hollywood white favoritism, Riseborough’s raw performance as a broken alcoholic who contends with a recurring cycle of addiction in the barren outskirts of West Texas fits the formula.  Having seen her in Rowan Joffé’s Brighton Rock (2010), James Marsh’s Shadow Dancer (2012), Eran Creevy’s Welcome to the Punch (2013), Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (2014), and Armando Iannucci’s The Death of Stalin (2017), Andrea Riseborough’s performance in this film is nothing like those earlier roles, as it’s more demonstrably physical, a showier, Brandoesque kind of performance that typically turns heads, fitting the formula of what wins Oscar nominations, raw and earthy, getting ugly, kind of like Halle Berry in MONSTER’S BALL (2001) or Charlize Theron in MONSTER (2003) when they won, but nonetheless took the Academy by surprise because so few people actually saw this film.  Shot in 19 days for less than $1 million dollars, there was no money in the budget for even a single ad, while Netflix spent $25 million dollars on an ad campaign to put Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma (2018) into contention for a movie that itself cost a reported $15 million, leading to ten Oscar nominations, winning three, including Best Director, yet no one contended there was any hanky panky in that process.   

This film fits the clichéd formula used in Bruce Beresford’s TENDER MERCIES (1983), where Robert Duvall won a Best Actor Academy Award playing an alcoholic country singer whose career nosedives, sinking to the bottom of the barrel, eventually atoning for his sins and finding redemption in a wonderfully accurate portrayal of small-town life in Texas, another barebones film that was critically lambasted and died at the box office when it was initially released in only three cities, receiving no studio backing, yet surprisingly received 5 Oscar nominations, including Best Picture, with Horton Foote also earning an Oscar for writing the Best Screenplay, and now the film is remembered fondly, setting a standard for authenticity that few other films are able to match, including this one, while also initiating a trend in more personalized independent filmmaking.  Alcoholism is a prominent theme in Billy Wilder’s THE LOST WEEKEND (1945), George Cukor’s A Star Is Born (1954), Douglas Sirk’s Written On the Wind (1956), Richard Brooks’ Cat On a Hot Tin Roof (1958), Mike Nichols’ Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966), John Cassavetes’ A Woman Under the Influence (1974) and Opening Night (1977), Sidney Lumet’s The Verdict (1982), Barbet Schroeder’s BARFLY (1987), Mike Figgis’ LEAVING LAS VEGAS (1997), Ken Loach’s MY NAME IS JOE (1998), Jeff Preiss’ Low Down (2014), Alexandre Rockwell’s 2021 #9 Film of the Year Sweet Thing (2020), and David Fincher’s Mank (2020), yet the most apt comparisons may be Bent Hamer’s Factotum (2005), exploring the seedy world of Los Angeles as it follows a fictionalized world of drunk poet Charles Bukowski, and Scott Cooper’s CRAZY HEART (2009), where Jeff Bridges won Best Actor and Best Song Oscars as a down-and-out country singer on the road, with Duvall appearing in and producing the film.  Riseborough as Leslie Rowlands offers a virtuoso performance who rages and howls at anyone and everyone with a proud defiance, becoming a grotesque portrait of self-destruction, opening in front of television cameras in an enthusiastic moment of euphoria after winning the town’s largest $190,000 lottery, her ticket purchased at the local bar, a single mom promising she’s going to make a better life for herself and her young son by buying him a guitar and a new house, but instead impulsively buys drinks all around and irresponsibly squanders her fortune in short order, leaving her destitute and alone, losing her son in the process.  Morris is a British television director making his film debut, shot on 35mm by Larkin Seiple, and written by Ryan Binaco, who is also a producer, inspired by the life of his own mother, though we never see her downward spiral, revealing only the aftermath years later when she’s already scraping rock bottom, immediately realizing she’s her own worst enemy, a shamelessly ungrateful and unsympathetic character, where watching her make an endless series of bad choices makes this a difficult watch, where literally no one is ever happy to see her.  There’s nothing prettified about this film, as it’s unsparingly bleak.

In the event some are still under the illusion that winning the lottery is the answer to all your prayers, you might consider reading an old Reddit posting from nearly a decade ago shared by redditor u/BlakeClass that sounds horrifying, while CNBC reports that many lottery winners file for bankruptcy within three to five years after winning.  As we witness her descent, getting kicked out of seedy motels for nonpayment of rent, to living with her grown son James (Owen Teague), who she hasn’t seen in six years, eying her with suspicion from traumatic experiences in the past, yet reluctantly opens his doors so long as she promises not to drink, but Leslie quickly violates his trust, stealing from friends, drinking and having sex with neighbors to pick up some extra drinking money, where he’s had it with her, "you're a drunk" - To Leslie YouTube (1:51), angrily putting her on a bus back home to some nondescript small town in Texas, where she’s met by a biker couple, Nancy and Dutch, Allison Janney and Stephen Root, working together for the first time since the popular TV show The West Wing (1999-2006).  Nancy, her former best friend, has no patience and is still infuriated with Leslie for abandoning James at such a tender age, where it fell upon her to explain her mother’s absence to him, raising him for a few years after she left, where she’s looking for any excuse to kick her out of their home.  Leslie readily obliges by drinking once again, leaving her few options other than hitting the bar and trying to pick up strangers, using them for drinks and money while dancing to Waylon Jennings blaring on the jukebox, Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way - YouTube (2:54), only to end up disappointed, as it leads her nowhere except back out on the street, with Nancy getting all into her face at one point, vindictively shaming her in public, “You know she left her kid?  You know she drank all that money away?  Had every chance and pissed it down the gutter!  And her son?  Left him.  That boy was thirteen.  Ain’t got food, and he’s scared all alone without his mama.  Just so you could go out drinking thinking you’re hot shit!”  With her self-esteem plummeted, she has become the butt of all jokes and the laughingstock of the entire town, who view her as an abysmal failure, she ends up sleeping next to a dumpster at a dingy motel, but gets shooed away in the morning by the manager Sweeney (Marc Maron), leaving her pink suitcase behind, which his partner Royal (Andre Royo) recognizes, knowing her entire story, viewing her as trouble with a capital T.  But as she keeps hanging around, Sweeney inexplicably offers her a job cleaning the rooms, including room and board, a pretty sweet deal, but she drinks away her salary and is on the verge of losing that job as well, but has an epiphany moment listening to the last song after staying far too long in a nearly deserted bar one night, Are You Sure by Willie Nelson from his album ... - YouTube (2:42), a little-known gem from his third album in 1965 when he was clean shaven in short, slicked back hair and wore suits when he performed, which pretty much only sold in Texas.  It’s the money shot of the film, at first having to laugh at how autobiographical it is, yet the creeping loneliness of the song is spot on, causing her to get serious for perhaps the first time, swearing off the alcohol and going through withdrawals on her own, where her physical sufferings mirror the mental struggles coping with her failed life, aided by Sweeney, who is a kind and forgiving soul, perhaps due to his own experience with an alcoholic ex-wife that led to his divorce, finally offering her a chance that no one else has ever given her.  While it leads to an improbable finale that all too easily wraps up all the loose ends in a tidy bow, the film does represent a fearless style of acting, where Riseborough has been around for a while, and it’s nice to see her finally get recognized.   

Something in the Dirt

 

Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead

SOMETHING IN THE DIRT                       B                                                                         USA  (116 mi)  2022  ‘Scope  d: Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead

LA is like Halloween, but like all the time.

I might be one of the first people in the universe to taste an interdimensional fruit.  If I die doing that, I’m fine with that.                                                                                                        —John (Aaron Moorhead)

An offbeat film that actually toys with the territory of Shane Carruth’s PRIMER (2004), a remarkable low-budget sci-fi puzzle film evolving into the mysteriously inexplicable, playing the same kind of psychological mind games with the audience.  While it doesn’t have the logical consistencies of PRIMER, or the wonderfully concise editing style, it does attempt to explore the cosmos through a frazzled LA mindset, where the mysteries come fast and furious, none of which are remotely explainable, offering a kind of mathematical weirdness into another dimension, where a special mention must go out to sound designer Yahel Dooley.  One may add this film to a long tradition of eerie LA movies about a strange consciousness surrounding the laid-back subculture of Southern California, which might include Howard Hawks’ THE BIG SLEEP (1946), a crime caper which is more about atmosphere than plot (shot entirely on the Warner Bros. back lot), Billy Wilder’s SUNSET BLVD (1950), where the Hollywood dream is transformed into a terrible nightmare, Robert Aldrich’s Kiss Me Deadly (1955), a wonderfully seedy L.A. private-eye tale that takes us to the brink of the apocalypse, Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye (1973), revealing the moral rot of Los Angeles, Roman Polanski’s CHINATOWN (1974), where the history of the city is built on beautiful illusions that amount to little more than lies and deceit, Tobe Hooper’s POLTERGEIST (1982), revealing a suburban haunting in Simi Valley, Carl Franklin’s Devil in a Blue Dress (1995), uncovering a world of corrupt politicians and dirty murders, the Coen brother’s  The Big Lebowski (1998), paying tribute to marginalized Southern California eccentrics, David Lynch’s MULHOLLAND DRIVE (2001), a love poem to all those who have been tragically haunted by the Hollywood dream, David Gordon Green’s stoner movie, PINEAPPLE EXPRESS (2008), which may be best watched high, and more recently David Robert Mitchell’s Under the Silver Lake (2019), a coded clue movie that takes conspiracy theories into new heights.  At the forefront of DIY low-budget, independent filmmaking, making stories that are uniquely their own, Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead, making their fifth feature together, wrote, directed, produced, shot, edited, and starred in this film, mostly taking place in Benson’s own apartment, a minimal production conceived as part of the crazy restrictions from the Covid pandemic lockdown in 2020, yet despite the restrictive setting, this is an expansive, mind-altering film exploring the fundamentals of physics that may have heads spinning trying to figure out what’s happening.  What starts out as an easy going buddy movie quickly morphs into a paranoid sci-fi conspiracy theory thriller, as we discover mathematical equations written on a closet wall, apparently left by a previous tenant, but no one’s lived there in ten years.  We also find a creaking door that won’t close, a dripping ceiling, and then levitations and strange light formations that suggest paranormal activity, leading to a tumble down a rabbit hole (or wormhole), with pseudo-science and conspiracy theories galore, evolving into a film-within-a-film, with found footage and mockumentary talking head interviews that clarify absolutely nothing, but only add to an enveloping confusion, with the protagonists eventually losing themselves to random Reddit/QAnon theories that become larger than life, swallowing them up whole and spitting them out in a sci-fi spoof of the cosmic enigma with infinite molecular possibilities, mirroring the cultural fascination to forget about science and believe just about anything.  As if stating the obvious, an amusing theme is introduced early, “Is it possible this is extremely dangerous and we overlooked that part?”  Particularly impressive are the jarring montage of images filled with childhood memories, a personalized abstraction that only briefly appear, adding a peculiar insight into character, yet blend into the complexity of the visual design.  A film about filmmaking itself, it has a special dedication, “To making movies with your friends.”

Justin Benson (who wrote the script) is Levi, having recently been fortunate enough to discover this dark and grungy, yet dirt cheap apartment in the Hollywood Hills, sight unseen, intending to use it short-term as a crash pad while he sidelines as a bartender, tending to unfinished business until he can depart for the next town, as he’s something of a burned out bohemian surfer dude who has a tendency to move around a lot.  On his way out the door he discovers his neighbor, Aaron Moorhead (handling the camera) as John, quickly bumming a cigarette as the two exchange niceties, the only two living in the apartment complex, discovering John is a wedding photographer and former math teacher who recently divorced from his gay partner, and may be connected to a massive evangelical church, while Levi seems to be haunted by earlier undisclosed events that include legal issues and family trauma, with John offering furniture kept in storage, while the camera seems to focus on a myriad of electronic connections that emit a strange humming noise.  What’s also significant is the quick juxtaposition of an interview with Dr. Rita Miller (Sarah Adina Smith), a chemist offering her professional expertise, referring to a personal tragedy that resulted from their film project, apparently splitting them apart, suggesting she believes at least some of what we’ve witnessed is real, yet we haven’t a clue what she’s referring to.  The city of Los Angeles also becomes a prominent character with recurring images of low-flying airplanes passing overhead, while the buzz of helicopters is constantly heard tending to a nearby fire in the hills, with smoke billowing in the distance, with a strange reference to a coyote on the loose.  Yet when John helps him move the furniture, a quartz crystal they’ve been using as an ashtray suddenly levitates, refracting strange light patterns against the wall, yet in an instant it’s gone, with both acknowledging that something very strange just happened, refusing to believe what they’ve just seen.  But when it happens again, they’re convinced they’ve opened a portal into another dimension, believing an alien presence may be secretly inhabiting the closet, transmitting an oppressive heat, which may be their natural habitat, forcing them to keep the windows open to keep from sweltering, with Levi developing a peculiar habit of sitting on the outside landing, both continually chain smoking cigarettes as they furiously discuss all the possibilities of what they might be experiencing.  Following all clues, thoughts jump out of their heads about the Morse code, the golden ratio, the Pythagorean Brotherhood, aliens, ghosts, and numerology, with John carrying around a book entitled Geometry of Magnetism, where every symbol suddenly has meaning.  They decide they need to document this supernatural phenomena, convinced no one would believe them otherwise, quickly agreeing that filming their own documentary is the way to go, with dollar signs racing through their heads, a supposed panacea for their desperate need for cash.  At one point, hoping to interact with the spirit, John makes a hilarious request, “If you’re a ghost, do something!”  In reference to the weird heat source and inexplicable light coming from the closet, John wants to call their film “Something in the Light,” while Levi prefers “The Door That Wouldn’t Shut,” yet when they finally set up for filming, another phenomenon mysteriously reoccurs, but the camera hard drive melts and the phone SD card is full, so they get no footage.  Levi is convinced they need to upgrade their equipment, quickly reevaluating their plan, both excited about this harebrained scheme, but they are amateurs continually screwing up in comical misadventures, where something inevitably goes wrong, with Levi pondering, “Sometimes I wonder if these two things are just you and me, one of them manipulating the other into an endless rabbit hole going nowhere, and the other one just implicitly going along with it because he wants to believe in something different than his actual life.”  A comment on the isolation and loneliness we all feel being cut off from each other during the pandemic lockdown, perhaps the most interesting thing about the film is the formal construction of different levels of observation, as on the one hand, there are the phenomena that occur around the protagonists, on the other hand, we are immersed in a documentary that they themselves are filming, with interventions by various scientific experts, and finally, we can’t help but be influenced by the documentary nature of the film which introduces fragments of real recordings on which these wild theories are based.         

As they immerse themselves in this project, both seemingly outcasts running from their pasts, an internal paranoia sets in, with John in particular growing suspicious when he finds Levi’s name on the sex registry list, where he’s required to do community service.  While Levi initially expresses reticence about even discussing the matter, with a flood of childhood images offering obscure references, including a mysterious death of his sister that has left him emotionally scarred, he eventually confesses that it’s all a mistake, as what he’s really guilty of is public urination on the walls of a daycare center, as he couldn’t find any public rest room facilities nearby, a far different crime in his eyes, which seems to satisfy John at first, but over time their relationship fractures as this growing distrust only magnifies their obvious differences, with the more self-absorbed John continually probing into the complicated ramifications of mathematical equations and ratios, yet exhibiting an arrogant sense of superiority, ultimately dismissing not only Levi, but everyone else’s opinion, while the more laid-back and emotionally damaged Levi begins to see John as an intractable apocalyptic evangelical extremist with fascist tendencies, an authoritarian control freak who’s also a compulsive liar.  The developing intimacy between them is appealing, two wacky characters we enjoy spending time with, as the emotional journey arguably means more than any sense of wonder from the sci-fi twist, yet it soon turns into the enveloping craziness of being trapped in a closed environment for some length of time, feeding off of each other’s weaknesses and obsessions, leading to extreme paranoia and suspicion.  Both seem to lose interest in any actual explanation for the occurrences they witness so long as they can earn gobs of money, but how they intend to sell this product is vastly different, never really working in tandem, as John’s ego seems to take over the project.  It becomes hard to distinguish what might be the effects of an earthquake and this bizarre activity, so they bring in supernatural experts who offer a running commentary on camera, with the film attempting to recreate their own experiences, with both continually exploring a myriad of controversial theories, like the CIA’s Project MKUltra, a mind control project, or the Jerusalem syndrome, while also discovering a manuscript with every line redacted except for five numbers, none of which seems to make sense, yet plays out on camera with a kind of mind-altering curiosity.  By restaging heavily edited and manipulated events juxtaposed against the actual experience, the filmmakers successfully blur the line between what’s real and imagined, becoming an abstract mosaic where it’s hard to tell the difference.  Both of them discuss the theories and various connections, continually trying to unlock the mysteries of the cosmos, like being stuck in a time portal, developing a strange, dreamlike feel that seems to have its own logic, unfolding like a fever dream that could just be taking place inside their heads, which is part of the strange appeal of this film.  Attempting to integrate everything into this theory of coincidences, it could be aliens, ghosts, or any number of explanations, where their lives have otherwise stopped as they explore these possibilities with an adrenal rush, with characters pontificating on life and the universe, while calmer voices of experts continually intervene offering their own findings, with a chemist even evaluating dirt samples for radiation, with viewers immersed in this mad dash to find meaning.  The very fabric of Los Angeles comes into play, exploring graveyards, studying the original design by the initial city planners, or following a GPS destination out in the desert, becoming a parody of the paranormal documentaries so commonly found on streaming platforms.  Continually seeking explanations, which are shared on camera, they are clearly having a difficult time not only with each other, developing a near pathological hatred for one another, but also any sense of where this all leads and how they can wrap up their documentary, which becomes this mythical quest into the unknown, perhaps losing themselves in the process.  Defying all explanations, suspiciously weird activity continually dominates the screen, with revelations about Levi’s sister’s death causing reverberations of grief and childhood trauma, yet over the course of the film we discover our narrators are not entirely reliable, having succumbed to their own irrational delusions, where one of the most mystifying moments is seeing John wrapped in plastic, like a deranged homeless person, supposedly protecting him from excessive radiation, eying a doomsday scenario that could spell the end.  It’s an elaborate construction of narrative labyrinths leading nowhere, leading to information overload, where by the end, we are left with an empty feeling.  The camera angles seem to find their faces fraught with emotion and anxiety, caught in the rapture of exploring something bold and new, yet there is also pain and sorrow written on those faces, growing weary over time, where a tragic sadness sets in with the exhaustive toll this takes, their lives unfolding like the Matryoshka doll wind chimes hanging just outside John’s apartment, resonating like tinkling bells, evoking sounds as mysterious as the wind.