by Joel
#82 in Best of the 21st Century?, a series counting down the most acclaimed films of the previous decade.
The zeroes did not see many high-profile “movements” or artistic trends in American cinema. Indie cinema, the big news of the early to mid nineties, was co-opted by Hollywood, and (perhaps resultingly) few new young directors emerged; likewise widely-embraced new developments. Still, there were transformations, some subtle, others under the radar. With Royal Tenenbaums setting the tone, studio “independents” embraced quirk as their defining characteristic – a once marginal taste now became the norm. Financially independent (which is to say, actually independent) cinema reacted accordingly. There were two prominent approaches, both defiantly smallscale. The first, and more low-budget, was dubbed “mumblecore.” Its subjects were middle-class youths, usually well-educated but not concerned with work (either for mysterious reasons or because they were given rather unconvincing “cool” jobs). The narrative focus was almost always on (heterosexual) relationships, and the form took anti-sleekness to its extreme: handheld camera, tiny casts and crews, often shot on video. Long-held close-ups were the aesthetic trademarks of the mumblers, and this (along with the filmmakers’ penchant to cast themselves and their friends in the main parts) often led to charges of narcissism.
At any rate, “mumblecore” received more media attention (albeit exclusively in hip, trendy outlets) than any other indie movement, and seems to have spent itself after reaching a high-water mark a year or two ago. Meanwhile, quietly but with growing acclaim and less controversy, a number of independent films appeared at festivals with an opposite tack: rather than explore the emotional travails of the financially secure but spiritually wandering young, it sought out subjects on the periphery of society: struggling immigrants, street orphans, crack addicts in the flooded hinterlands. Stylistically there was a similarity, in that these indies were usually shot low to the ground, but it should be noted that (ironically) the films with more impoverished subjects sometimes had bigger budgets, more access to professionals – even movie stars, and more established backers (Wendy and Lucy was produced by Todd Haynes). Movies like Ballast, Frozen River, and particularly the films of Ramin Bahrani (Man Push Cart, Chop Shop, and Goodbye Solo) represented this trend which, unlike mumblecore, shows no signs of dissipating at the moment. Wendy and Lucy very firmly belongs to this category.
Unlike the studio indies, unlike even the mumblecore films, these movies (they have not yet, to my knowledge, been grouped under a heading save for the unsatisfying neo-neorealism) are deliberately un-romantic, even anti-romantic at times. To varying degrees they may employ a quiet poetry in the photography (Bahrani’s films in particular strive for a lyrical touch) but they almost always eschew a score, using either source music or no music (Wendy and Lucy goes only so far as having a tune hummed on the soundtrack). Nonactors are often employed for smaller parts (or, in the case of Ballast, almost every part), settings are often grim, and the focus is usually on character, so that even striking landscapes like the Delta regions of Ballast tend to serve as background for the figures onscreen. Editing is clipped and trim, compositions functional, dialogue minimal (long patches of silence abound), storytelling reduced to bare necessities. The Dardenne brothers, a filmmaking duo from Belgium, are often cited as influences, but their reputation for striking harshness or black humor is not really reflected in the more earnest American endeavors.
Indeed, these movies run the risk of seeming drab or dull; Wendy and Lucy is well past the halfway mark before its rote and deadpan delivery loosens a bit and allows the characters to breathe. There’s often a sense of displacement – the rigorous style of the filmmakers does not always gibe with the uncertain, stumbling lives of the protagonists. A self-conscious distancing is employed, as if the filmmakers don’t want to “impose” anything on their subjects, even at the risk of making their work seem slightly inhuman. Even at their best, these films do not tap into the warm stream of humanism present in previous influences like Italian neorealism or Pather Panchali; instead, at their worst, they can feel like forced exercises, “good for you” movies – the filmic equivalent of soggy vegetables. Sounds harsh, I know; having appreciated many of the movies in question I don’t want to give the impression of complete antipathy – still, caveats are in order as these neo-neorealist enterprises have met with largely uncritical critical reception.
Enough with the parameters of context; what of this particular film? Wendy and Lucy are, respectively, a homeless girl and her dog. We don’t know much about either before Wendy gets arrested for shoplifting and Lucy disappears. Actually, we’ve learned that Wendy is headed to Alaska, that she sleeps in parking lots (or did until her car broke down early in the movie), that she’s hesitant to call herself homeless and instead repeatedly describes herself as “passing through.” An early scene around a bonfire in the woods suggests that she does not see herself as part of the transient community – surrounded by other young drifters she seems uncomfortable, perturbed by their unkempt appearances and pronounced outsider styles. For most of the movie, she is alone – and save for one lonely call back home, we get the impression she prefers this solitude to company; or at least that she has made her peace with an unfortunate condition, and perhaps grown more comfortable with it than the alternative. We glean this information through subtle and unforced exposition on the part of writer/director Kelly Reichardt but in saying “we don’t know much about” Wendy, I’m not exaggerating. Where she came from, why she is unsettled (her sister, while struggling, has a home), what lies in her past…all left to the imagination.
Once Lucy vanishes, Wendy seems completely ensnared by the stark and dreary Oregon town. One is reminded of Bicycle Thieves, in which a worker’s bicycle is stolen and he spends the entire movie desperately searching for it. However, in this case, the stolen(?) “item” is a token of spiritual rather than financial security. Antonio had his son to keep him company on his desperate quest, but with Lucy gone, Wendy has no one. She’s already stranded because of her car but the dog’s disappearance compounds the sense that she’s enduring a sort of purgatory. Yet limbo can have a purifying effect. I mentioned that the first half of the film is not as engaging in the second; upon reflection, this may be intentional. The early passages are stuffed with irritating tendencies: characters reduced to offscreen voices, the close shots which ignore Wendy’s surroundings or make them seem as generic as possible, the one-notedness of Wendy’s actions and expressions, the reduction of certain characters (particularly the goody two shoes grocery clerk) to rank caricature. Because our perspective is completely dependent upon Wendy’s, we see her as our uncomplicated protagonist and suspect that our frustrations with her are not shared by the film. But as a security guard slowly emerges as a genuinely compassionate and helpful person, as the camera backs up and allows us to appreciate a sense of place, as Wendy loosens up a bit and shows more emotion, we understand that there may be a subtle criticism at work in the first half’s sense of narcissism.
Then again “criticism” may be too judgmental a term; Wendy’s guarded weariness and sour demeanor are not really seen as character flaws so much as protective strategies, completely understandable in this situation. In fact, by opening up a bit, by letting her brittle facade crack, by becoming more “alive” in the second half of the film, Wendy may not be making herself better off. She has, in a sense, become both more human and more humane – the climactic decision to leave Lucy with her new owner is a major turning point (another occurs when, sleeping in the woods, she is harassed by a crazy drifter in the middle of the night, a strong scene which drips with palpable fear and tension). Unfortunately, these very traits also leave her more vulnerable. The final scene, in which Wendy hops a freight train and sorrowfully rides the rails, now truly alone without her beloved pet reminds us that her emotional disengagement and narrow focus served a purpose. Somehow we doubt she will make it to Alaska any time soon; if she’s more aware than she had been, less in denial, we can’t be sure that this greater knowledge will redound to her benefit. Michelle Williams is fine as Wendy, convincingly conveying this shift from monotonous desperation to more soulful despair. But the most interesting performance in the movie is delivered by Will Patton as a fast-talking, somewhat dismissive, but ultimately sympathetic mechanic; indeed, his brief appearance is what helps turn the film around and bring a bit of vivacity and charisma into it. By contrast, Wally Dalton as the kindly security guard is likable but not entirely convincing; he never really transcends the Good Samaritan trappings of the stock part, which is unfortunate since the figure serves such a crucial purpose in the story.
While it was unfolding, I was not particularly enamored of Wendy and Lucy; indeed, until the last third of the film, I considered it the least impressive of the neo-neorealist films I’d seen. Yet looking back on it, the simple story grows in my imagination and I like it more and more, particularly for the way it delves into some of the inherent flaws of its “genre’s” approach and turns them into formal conceits – with something to say about both the character and her perspective. The movement from acerbic generalization and distancing direction to more sensitive, warmer, if also sadder engagement not only reflects Wendy’s growth but suggests a way forward for this indie movement: away from a too-principled disengagement to a deeper immersion in the emotional plight of its protagonists. The movie begins with a removed, overhead view of a freight train passing along the Oregon treeline, and it ends with a close shot of Wendy in one of these cars, and then the rail rushing by out the door. And then, as the credits roll, plangent, melancholy music, no longer a whispered humming or tinned supermarket muzak, but a real score, resonating with the feelings which have remained mostly buried throughout the movie. The restraint has been dropped, and the emotions finally burst forth, for better or for worse.
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An interesting review. The formal context is appreciated, as I rarely take the time to think about films in that way.
I like your point on the first half of the film being somewhat oppressive (my word!). It has that “people are strange when you’re a stranger” feel to it. Although, for me, the security guard worked. My own experience of travelling around are that people are typically friendly and sympathetic enough to a genuine plea for assistance (so long as you do not want money from them or otherwise do something to make yourself seem odd or dangerous!). Yet, that is all that they are. You never get their life story – just some assistance from someone who remains a stranger to you.
What really struck me most about WENDY AND LUCY, though, is the almost atavistic desire to head west in pursuit of the American Dream when things are not working out at home. Wendy’s excitement about being told that there actually is a company hiring in the canneries is telling – so far travelled, so much endured, and so little known about her “Yukon gold” dream. For what its worth, though, I do believe that she gets there. She is resilient beneath it all, she has got this far, and she has grown a metaphorical inch in leaving Lucy behind for now. Her tears, for me, are those of immediate sorrow. The direction that she takes, though, is her determination to carry on. Time ultimately mends everything else.
And, if I am sounding too romantic there, the harsher question to answer is what choices does she otherwise have? Her family do not want to know, she is broke, and she is travelling through an economic wasteland in search of a Northern Sangreal. Onwards is all that truly beckons…
Great comment, Longman. I generally agree – what I questioned while watching ultimately worked for me in retrospect. As for the security guard, I don’t have trouble buying the character I just thought the performance was weak, unfortunately. You are right about Wendy – there is a dreaminess there, but there is also the desperation which forces her to cling to that dreaminess because there’s little other choice. So that even when the more wilfully naive aspects of her dream dissipate, the dream itself remains. Go to keep on moving…
Boy, I’m with Longman on this one. Granted I’ve only seen this film once, but it clicked a lot for me. It meanders along nicely, and Williams is terrific (as usual I suppose). I like many of the indie films like this from around this time (which strangely enough in your countdown of this ‘genre’ you don’t mention several of the better, less ironic hipster veins: like SHOTGUN STORIES, David Gordon Green– GEORGE WASHINGTON is my personal favorite, Larry Fessenden–who even has a part in the film, etc).
But the obvious ode to UMBERTO D, and BICYCLE THIEF is really fantastic, I loved the hummed soundtrack (as if she’s trying to provide anything to lift her spirits), and the showing of the seemingly boring daily ritual: ‘bathing’. She’s down and out but there are still enough signs that she has personal pride and remains (or really tries to remain) optimistic.
Maybe it’s because I’ve only seen this film once, but I think it should be celebrated. Even with flaws these are the types of stories that should be made in America right now (just yesterday I read a news story about 18-30 years olds in this country face 37% unemployment). Quibble and nitpick all you like this film ‘works’ much more often then it does not.
Great review and profound responses, but for me, aside from the lead performance I found this stifling piece of minimalism an excrutiating bore.
I agree Frank. Joel as always has written an excellent piece. I just find the film to be so aesthetically and dramatically minimal and plain that I was waiting for it to end as well. It’s not something I would ever want to revisit again. Michele Williams does well in her part but I feel it could of been more effective as a short. It needed something more memorable to occur to hold my undivided attention. A 40 minute running time would of done the trick…….
“aesthetically and dramatically minimal”
yeah, I think this bleak story about abject poverty and day to day suffering and struggling could have used a bunch of visual pyrotechnics and showy (read: fake) camera moves…
Winter’s Bone puts your sarcasm to the sword. There is a film about abject poverty and day to day suffering done by a truly talented director with loads of craft. Wendy And Lucy is second rate period.
Well obviously we could spend years listing films that work with this subject and incorporate various looks and treatments.
minimal and plain= bad. Got it, now does that make UMBERTO D and BICYCLE THIEF bad films?
It takes all kinds of styles to tell all kinds of films, this one didn’t work for you… it did for me, but to accuse it lacking of something it never attains to have or even for a second evoke that it wants is just putting your preconceived notions or believes on film onto said subject. I don’t agree with this brand of criticism. What this film (WENDY) wants to say and do, and how it wants to do and say it, it does a fantastic job doing. As you said, Period.
Haha sorry for being brash Jamie. I want to depart with a bang. Umberto D and The Bicycle Thief have more compelling stories to me. Comparing Wendy And Lucy to those classics, in any way, is a little shocking. Umberto D is anything but “plain” dramatically. It is able to make you care about the elderly man much much more. Maybe because he is old you get a more poignant/emotional feeling towards his situation. You know the chances of things getting better for him are remote. It leads to a more enthralling film overall. My main problem with Wendy And Lucy is that it can’t support 80 minutes of running time. I will hold to my belief that the film as a short would of been more effective. I have no preconceived notions about cinema. I said the film would of been better served in a briefer format. That is my opinion….. the “period” was an unfortunate display of pomposity on my part. I’m no angel lol. It takes all kinds of styles to make movies but I found this one dragged to it’s predictable end.
“I want to depart with a bang. Umberto D and The Bicycle Thief have more compelling stories to me. Comparing Wendy And Lucy to those classics, in any way, is a little shocking..”
well since we are taking closing statements I must then say that your inability to see connections between UMBERTO and WENDY is head shaking to me. We are talking about the same films right? (Hint: think a connection with dog kennels, and with BICYCLE THIEF when her car breaks down clearing that is losing the mode of transit needed for work). I assumed these were rather obvious connections and starting points, but then I wasn’t the saying they are/were ‘incomparable’.
It’s pointless to debate but WENDY AND LUCY is many things, but it’s NOT pointless. If anything it’s making more ‘points’ then most films around now. Which is all besides the point, as if you think it’s pointless AND you’d think it would work as a shorter film is like saying this short book sucks because it lacks fully developed characters and story (missing due to books length) then saying the remedy to fix them is to make the book… shorter. “You’re ugly Pete Townshend because you have a big nose, I bet I could make you better looking is we gave you a BIGGER nose… up is down, down is up”. How’s that for snarky? lol.
I see the connection between both films thematically. My inability stems more from the huge gap in quality/greatness. I’m not sure where you got the impression that I couldn’t tell the rather obvious similarities all three films possess. What I don’t understand is comparing Wendy And Lucy favorably to any classic neo realist Italian movie. To me its a *** film at best. Hey you love the darn thing….. more power to you. Chalk up my skepticism to your similar inability to find value in Public Enemies. Increasingly you seem to get frustrated when others don’t agree with your opinions. What can I say. I find Wendy And Lucy dull and yawn inducing. Up is down and down is up but dull is always dull. Thank you for pointing out the kennel part. You achieved nothing but further convincing me of the huge gap in quality between this and De Sica’s picture. Pete Townsend does have a big nose and surgical procedures might make him better looking. It won’t change his great guitar playing or incredible song writing though. Wendy And Lucy sure could use a nose job, a tummy tuck, a better script, botox, and Debra Granik as director lol………
Comparing Wendy And Lucy to those classics, in any way, is a little shocking.
then a post later:
I see the connection between both films thematically…. I’m not sure where you got the impression that I couldn’t tell the rather obvious similarities all three films possess.
Welcome to Bizarro World.
The “in any way” comment is based more on the quality gap between the two films. Not in any way should a second rate indie film be compared to Umberto D “a classic of world cinema”. I was not being literal but if you wish to nitpick fine. Those two pictures should not be mentioned in conjuction ever. Similar themes does not mean anything when the disparity is as huge as an ocean. I play soccer but it does not mean I should be mentioned with the likes of Lionel Messi. Now departing Bizarro World……destination……….
I’m being too hard on this film now just to defend myself. It’s a *** movie that feels overlong to me. Hopefully I clarified myself.
suddenly the guy who normally puts his opinion above all else, wants to play the objective ‘classic of world cinema card’.
Quality, is whatever… (i do think the two italian films are superior on objective terms, but I could find some things about WENDY that are better) but when discussing films the comparison lead to the discussion which lead to new horizons. Consider the recent PEE WEE essay and thread, we were discussion how that film spoke and was in dialogue with several others. Nowhere did anyone need to measure dicks and argue on quality terms (that you normally claim is purely subjective anyway), because it leads to what this conversation now is: a closed dead end.
PS I’m sorry if you ‘in any way’ was ‘nit picking’ or taking out of context, I guess I don’t know what other context that declarative/authoritative of a statement could have.
Well, I got what Maurizio was saying but he did exaggerate (“in any way” probably should have read “in terms of quality” or “in terms of style” to get his point across) so he left himself open to that criticism. Anyway, Jamie, I would be interested to hear more from you on what worked about the film for you – so far you’ve mentioned one narrative touch (the bathing) and one aesthetic one (the humming), but I’d be curious as to how the film engaged you in the first half? Did you feel, as I did, that initially the film was a bit offputting/alienating but then ultimately as Wendy came out of her shell, the film loosened up a bit and the first half came into focus as a necessary aesthetic/narrative device. This, to me, is why I ultimately liked the film – not because I was hooked right away but because as it moved along I could see WHY I wasn’t hooked initially and felt that this was a compelling strategy for the director to take. But your own comments suggest a somewhat different reaction, unless I’m misreading: that you were “into” the film right away, enjoying its early scenes in a way I did not. I’d be interested to hear more about this experience, since it differed from my own (it would also make me consider the film in a somewhat different light, since my reaction to it is not necessarily what Reichardt intended, which doesn’t make it wrong but leaves room for plenty of others).
Particularly I’d like to know more about your aesthetic/visceral response, something you already suggested with your appreciation of the music. How did the formal strategies and directorial choices of the first half engage you emotionally (that’s probably where our reactions diverge hence what I’m most interested in)?
Well I’d have to watch the film again to speak at great length (I’ve said a few times I’ve only seen it once), but I will say all the things you guys have said about the first half as negatives are things I appreciated. ‘Oppressive’, ‘mundane’, ‘bland’ etc. This is a film speaking about and portraying in a realistic way abject poverty. So it should be all of these things. To want to discuss film grammar, or wanting film tricks employed is not the point, or in a more extreme way somewhat laughable to me. The filmmaker and his techniques should drift into the background and disappear. To speak about these as negatives to me is gross. But perhaps you’ve never been between a rock and a hard place? ….
(a visceral moment was the walk in the woods, Michelle Williams in her long shorts and blue woody walking Lucy, watch that seen again. If you think it lacks poetry or craft or expression tells me you don’t understand subtly)
For example movieman, “Did you feel, as I did, that initially the film was a bit offputting/alienating but then…” I would have been fine if the entire film would have been like that. Things like ‘cold’ and ‘alienating’ are just critic buzzwords anyway. It’s like watching or reading news journalism… it’s a cold and sometimes alienating thing. It’s also a thing we need to do. Not all films have to fit into ‘warmth’ and ‘making human connections’.
That is more of just a random point. I think the film interacted with me throughout more or less.
Chill out, Jamie – snippiness and snarkiness are unbecoming and they do not do you or your arguments any favors. Besides which, I’m still not really sure what your arguments are. At any rate, I’ve lost interest in this discussion.
But that’s precisely my argument… how can we debate aesthetics when I don’t feel we should or they weren’t applied to the film on purpose.
I don’t mean to be snarky or act a high horse, but dressing up poverty is a rather phony proposition.
and really the rock and the hard place is the only effecting line… it can be omitted.
Heh, “oppressive” was not meant as a negative criticism! I travelled around alone when I was that age. I remember that “why me?” feeling when added hassles popped up.
To put it better, the first half of the film captures that sense of how she is alone and disorientated and of how those who see her initially think little of her. The second half then sees those initial barriers crumble to some extent and it “loosens up’.
Its like the first few days in a new job, etc.
Agreed, Longman – though I had thought mostly of the first half representing Wendy’s pov rather than the pov others had of her but in certain aspects it does seem to do both. At any rate, the irony of the discussions about minimalism and aesthetics is that the film actually has a very strong sense of style – Reichardt’s formal approach is heavily controlled and conscious, despite some suggestions of documentary “objectivity” at times. One reason I was impressed with the film’s shift in mood is that it is achieved, very subtly, through formal more than narrative means.
Interesting responses. Ultimately, I put myself on Jamie’s side in terms of conclusions – I thought the film was valuable and ultimately pretty interesting, but I totally understand Maurizio’s and Frank’s responses as they were initially my own. I think Wendy and Lucy rewards patience and curiosity (if one is willing to extend it) but it seems Jamie had a more viscerally pleasurable reaction right away, which is interesting (my own appreciation was won only gradually and upon reflection; the movie did not “click” for me right away). One thing I like about writing these pieces, and reflecting my own processes and reactions, is then seeing how others’ differed or were similar.
I’m kind of surprised I didn’t mention George Washington, looking back on it (I haven’t seen Shotgun Stories). I think it’s different from these other films in that it fosters a more dreamlike “magical” air – it’s less intent on documenting grim reality with a stoic eye – but in many other ways it’s very similar to the point that it was very likely a big influence on the “neo-neorealists”.
“Movies like Ballast, Frozen River, and particularly the films of Ramin Bahrani (Man Push Cart, Chop Shop, and Goodbye Solo) represented this trend which, unlike mumblecore, shows no signs of dissipating at the moment. Wendy and Lucy very firmly belongs to this category.”
Aye, absolutely, though BALLAST in my view is a much stronger film, reliant as it was on the Mississippi Delta landscapes (I said this about it–BALLAST’S outdoor scenes are bathed in naturalistic light, lyrically cropped in widescreen by the cinematographer Lol Crowley. It is yet another contributing factor to a unifying vision, where mood, texture, tone, camera visuals and an absence of music seem to stop time dead in its tracks. Without music, Hammer is able to accentuate naturalistic sound, like the rusty swinging of a screen door, birds fluttering in the aire and the “sound” of a human breath. The film is a documentary hiding behind the veneer of a fiction film, but this is apparently the new direction American cinema is moving in, and it’s surely reason for excitement.) I found WENDY AND LUCY an interesting film, but not in BALLAST’S league, though it was often affecting in large measure to Michelle Williams’s moving performance. I would stop short of describing it as “mumblecore” as I believe it to be a “silent” variation on that theme, but I do buy a number of your fabulous cinematic references of the Dandennes, DeSica, S. Ray and Bahrani, all of whose work I admire. The first half of the film does indeed ebrace some narcissism too.
I’d like to mention that I intensely disliked the director’s previous film OLD JOY, a more standard mumblecore that went nowhere narratively and failed at establishing the enveloping elegiac mood it set out to realize.
No, don’t get me wrong – I think this indie trend is actually, despite the overlap in age of directors and low budget, more or less opposite to mumblecore (and not only because of the perhaps relieving silence, ha ha). As for Ballast, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that one. I generally liked it, while finding it trending a bit too far towards a distancing effect in its direction, but I also appreciated a tone of dark comedy which then, reading the reviews, I wondered if I’d imagined. I haven’t seen Old Joy. (At this point I should probably note that the “neo-neorealist” films I mention & discuss in the article are just the ones I’ve seen – with the exception of Goodbye Solo – and should not necessarily be taken as a “definitive” overview of the “genre”).
Sam, I fell you dislike mumblecore (rightly so I think) and many times you’ll label contemporary indie films to be mumblecore when you do not like them and they are not. See also, BEFORE SUNSET.
Jamie, re: the rightly so on hating mumblecore, have you seen Bujalski’s Funny Ha Ha or Mutual Appreciation? I think Joe Swanberg’s largely a self-promoter (though he’s done some interesting stuff) and most of the other mumblers I can take or leave (though I got a kick out of Team Picture), but Andrew Bujalski’s really in his own category. Indeed the two films which spawned the whole “movement” are rather sui generis, there’s obviously a Cassevetes influence but they’re very much their own beast. He’s simply oustanding and crafting moments and atmosphere with simple, no-budget means; notably he waited 5 years for the whole mumble craze to begin passing over, before he released his 3rd film (which I liked, if not as much as the other two – I do know Sam didn’t care for it). Really, I think he should be considered apart from the trend; great directors are great directors and transcend their trappings, and I think he transcends his. That said, I find some of the mumble stuff interesting and full of potential though it is not a path I would ever really want to follow myself. Which ones have you seen/did you like any of them?
On another note, Joel, I just read your briefer (excellent) essay on CIVILISATION at The Dancing Image and smiled when I got to the end. (leaving a brief comment) I absolutely adore the show, and have returned to it in showing it to others. It’s the best thing of its kind ever created, and Clarke was really a superstar there.
I am a huge fan of Ms. Reichardt’s work. I thought Old Joy was a wonderful look at a deteriorating friendship, one friend is still living in the past, the other person struggling, but still preferring to move on. Wendy and Lucy, in all its simplicity, is about a different type of friendship and struggle, but is beautifully told in its simplicity. Maybe because of my preference for these types of films, I think they wholly work, even if they have a couple performance flaws (even though it’s tiny, the earnestness of the grocery store employee in Wendy annoys me). I think the less flashy, the more they work – Winter’s Bone was great, but it’s plot complications worked against it, I found. The same with Frozen River, which I disliked.
I am excited for Ms. Riechardt’s new film, Meek’s Cutoff, but as it is a period piece, I am expecting more funding more flashiness, which makes me nervous. It’s hard to not have expectations now, but I’m hoping her realist style of filmmaking transfers well into a historic piece.
Thanks, Dave. I’m curious to see Old Joy and find out how I respond to it after seeing Wendy & Lucy. I liked Frozen River but it was definitely made an effort, for better or worse, to incorporate traditional storytelling and some genre elements, much more so than the other films I mentioned. The film also went too far to tie everything up rather nicely, even to the point of have the native woman whom the teenage boy prank-called show up for an apology at the end of the movie. That really irked me.
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