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.       

Scaffolding (Pigumim)

SCAFFOLDING (Pigumim)             B                                

Israel  Poland  (90 mi)  2017  d:  Matan Yair

A film that explores a different aspect of Jewish life in Israel, namely a working underclass.  Within that background, the film takes us into a remedial educational high school class where we find 17-year old Asher (Asher Lux) in a literature class with other kids with behavior issues, most of whom joke that they can barely read.  Without ever specifying a medical diagnosis, Asher likely has attention deficit disorder (ADD) issues, where he impulsively blurts out questions without waiting to be called, often viewed as a classroom disturbance, as he has what are called temperament issues, while he’s also prone to violence, but that’s another issue.  The film is directed by Matan Yair, who’s also a novelist, having spent nearly ten years teaching a literature class, where Asher is a non-professional actor who was chosen from his classroom, who’s onscreen nearly the entire film, becoming an extremely compelling character study due to his inherent authenticity, which is really the centerpiece of the film.  Shot on a $400,000 budget, the film is interestingly a joint Israeli and Polish production, using a Polish cinematographer, Bartosz Bieniek, which offers a more expressive look to the film, moving from close-ups and handheld camerawork to recurring outdoor shots of Asher working on a building scaffold at all hours of the day with other laborers, as he’s being groomed to inherit his father’s scaffolding business.  The director’s use of time gaps and jump cuts often feel jarring to viewers, using abrasive moments to emulate the often unpredictable behavior of the central character.  Only one other film like this comes to mind, Sam Fleischner’s Stand Clear of the Closing Doors (2013), which uses an autistic actor in a film that accentuates the heightened sensory aspects of his personality disorder — a really beautiful film, by the way.  But if Asher is a compelling character, so too is his teacher, Rami (Ami Smolarchik), who projects an intelligent calm throughout all the interruptions, showing infinite patience, asking provocative questions, and always having the student’s best interests in mind, knowing they may never advance to college, that this may be the last time most will ever have any contact with poems, short stories, or great literature.  

Surprisingly, Asher’s father, Milo (Yaacov Cohen), shows little interest in his son continuing his education, finding it a waste of time, as instead he’s grooming him to take over the family business and has him regularly working on the scaffolds, believing hard labor is what’s good for him, as it saps his aggression and helps stabilize his behavior issues, though he’s concerned about Asher’s ability to manage other employees, many of whom tend to be older immigrants with complicated backgrounds.  Milo is an ex-con who wants his son to stay out of trouble even after he’s gone, thinking work is the best medicine.  There is no mention of a mother, with women almost entirely absent from his life, surrounding himself exclusively with male friends, like fellow laborers or teammates on the soccer field, where women are typically depicted through negative stereotypes and derogatory language.  So this is largely an examination of male behavior through a prism of a learning disability, where Rami becomes an alternate father figure, offering contradictory views from his own father, suggesting there are other options besides the family business, where education has its advantages, as it builds a healthier society.  But Asher is like a bull in a China shop, belligerent and continually exhibiting inappropriate behavior, where in the eyes of others he’s a troublemaker.  But Rami sees him as an earnest and sincere kid, easily sidetracked and losing concentration, no doubt, but with constant guidance he accepts instructions, as he’s willing to learn.  In class, few do any homework or take actual interest in the material, as they quickly lose focus and go off on tangents, but Rami patiently reels them back in, reading the material himself to make sure they’re acquainted with the classics, where the teacher feels it’s his obligation to help them navigate their way through the material.  It doesn’t always work, but sometimes it does, like Asher walking up to him in the hallways afterwards and urgently recalling one of the lessons. 

By chance, Asher overhears Rami ask another class to think of questions they might want to ask their fathers but never would, and write them down for class the next day, which prompts Asher to write his own questions for his overly stern father that he dutifully gives to his teacher.  What’s most intriguing about Asher is there is no filter, as he simply blurts out what’s on his mind, wearing his heart on his sleeve, making it clear what he’s thinking, as he’s totally transparent, with no secrets or ulterior motives.  Rami sees the goodness in this kid, and continually helps steer him on the right path, helping him pass one of his oral final examinations by being flexible enough to ask the same question in another way, as what he was interested in was knowing whether or not he knew the correct answer.  Always told in a naturalistic light, the contrast between father figures is intriguing, as both want what’s best for him, but they pursue it by taking such different paths.  His father grows ill, needing to have an operation, while Rami has his own personal issues that dramatically alter the narrative path of the film in a spellbinding sequence of its own, leaving Asher stranded, as if on an island, at least temporarily, perhaps for the first time in his life, having to navigate his own way through the final exams.  Other teachers are not as helpful as Rami, remaining rigidly authoritative, offering no guidance whatsoever, allowing him simply to sink or swim on his own, where he’s more inclined to fail.  Asher brings a tightly wound intensity to the role, where his confrontational manner, however, feels intimidating to other teachers and administrators, where misbehaving is part of his personality, often veering out of control, where there’s a thin line that separates him from criminal behavior, at times crossing it, as he has no internal mechanism to stop him from going there.  Nonetheless, this film offers extraordinary scrutiny into the examination of a male psyche that is damaged, viewed as throwaway goods, representing a near invisible underclass that is marginalized, suddenly thrust into the mainstream, fully integrated into the fabric of society.