What a beautiful title…like Bashō, Li Po, or even François Villon. In this age of over-medication, we hear of new disorders every day (accompanied by ridiculous commercials we have to endure with relatives at Christmastime). Of special note in these cold days is seasonal affective disorder. It’s legend as something independent of general depression lives on as most people do not have the DSM-IV or DSM-5 by their bedside.
And so, “with seasonal pattern” there are many of us who struggle especially in the wintery days of the year…especially if we feel our dreams have been suspended. Ah, suspended animation…it can be beautiful…like insects caught in amber (that Greek touchstone which lends our word “electricity” an etymology). Static electricity and ēlektron (the classical name for amber)… Such irony that flies and gnats would meet their demise drowned in the same substance…and countless days later we wonder at the beauty of their death. It is one of the few times death can be generally agreed on as beautiful. In the spider frozen in amber, we marvel at the beauty of the creature. Their life is preserved. While they have ceased to exist as a living creature, their form lives on through the sepia light which attests to them having existed. Grammar becomes difficult in such a state of was/is/will be.
But alas, as they say, this film is not really a poetic tour de force. It is, however, a time capsule which presents a haunting portrait of the northern U.S. in the late-’70s. One wonders whether the props department of Boogie Nights was lifted whole-cloth (!) as the action unfolds during this strange movie. Indeed, it is more strange than haunting. It is not frightening or repulsive like a Silence of the Lambs, but rather disjunct like a lesser cousin of Mulholland Dr.
I do not want to disparage this film because it is actually quite good, but I must admit that my sole reason for watching was to see Thora Birch act. Thora was the first actress I ever fell in love with. We all have our celebrity crushes. She was/is mine. Her trio of films American Beauty, Ghost World, and Homeless to Harvard (a Lifetime “joint”) was really an acting triumph which I can only compare to Bob Dylan’s trilogy of Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, and Blonde on Blonde. I know it sounds ridiculous to say so, but Birch directed those three films as much as did their auteurs/metteurs en scène. Call it la politique…in reverse…unlike King Midas…
This film presents a problem in its representation on Wikipedia. After viewing a film, I like to recall what I’ve just seen. Wikipedia is good for that, but not in this case. It’s as if this film was a Falconetti one-reeler from 1916 and not an American feature from 2009. In this dearth of information, one begins to suspect that Thora’s claims of having been forgotten and overlooked after Ghost World might just be right on the money. That’s where film critics step in. Though it be five years late and $991,679 short, I can (with my little voice) once again assert that Thora is an acting genius.
Poor Eric Mandelbaum…his name isn’t even a hypertext link on Wiki, but he did a fine job here painting a snow-drift picture of the not-so-old, weird America. Dan Moran at least has a dead link (empty page). The trouble with Harry, that!
All jokes aside, Brandon Sexton III is very convincing as the bearded, lonely Jerry. His stoic visage becomes as much a motif as Birch’s radiant beauty over the film’s course. Poor Jerry gets duped into some accessory to murder business…we think. None of it is very clear. Based on the true story of Barbara Hoffman, this tale plays with time and the facts like Lynch directing Pynchon. I can’t help but wonder if PTA’s Inherent Vice might converge with this film in some way…no doubt at a locale with an angry cropduster.
Keith Carradine is good here (resembling Burt Lancaster in Field of Dreams). Also good is Colleen Camp in the small role as Jerry’s mother. There are scenes of unspeakable sadness and ennui at the dinner table and near the end as she takes the phone call. We sense a connection to Ellen Burstyn’s performance in Requiem for a Dream (with the mise-en-scène of a Harmony Korine).
One thing is certain: my little piece of shit website shall always sing the praises of one Miss Thora Birch.