Austin brightened up after the festival's dreary opening day, luckily for us out-of-towners.
Beeswax was my first encounter with writer/director Andrew Bujalski, whose previous features Funny Ha Ha and Mutual Appreciation are lauded in indie film-geek circles but unseen everywhere else. While I certainly liked the film better than fellow mumblecore movement filmmaker Joe Swanberg’s Alexander the Last (also in competition, reviewed below), I can’t say I respond to these guys’ style in the least. No, I’m not bothered by the lack of a linear narrative, but I’d like something to latch onto beyond general ideas. In fact, that’s all Beeswax, the tale of an Austin paraplegic (Tilly Hatcher) who finds herself involved in a potential legal battle with the co-owner of her vintage clothing store, is about: general ideas. While nuanced and believable, the characters lack empathy—if my description of protagonist Jeannie seems uninviting, wait ‘til you meet her sister Lauren (Maggie Hatcher) or vague love-interest Merill (Alex Karpovsky)—and because of this, the film becomes more of an examination of humanness rather than a work of humanness itself. While there’s nothing wrong with this idea in theory, in practice it results in a film that fails to engage. Yes, there are several themes in Beeswax that should stir up discussion, namely those related to its timely commentary on small business and how Jeannie’s disability affects her daily life, but they don’t carry any gravitas because the film is painfully detached on the whole. It’s hard to fault anything but the film’s conceptual framework for this, as the performances are as authentic and accurate to the script as they could be, the subject is topical, and the tech credits are top-notch. Beeswax has a lot of good qualities indeed, but they fail to overcome a flawed inception. 2 Buckets out of 4.
True Adolescents softened the Bujalski-inspired angst I felt towards mumblecore filmmakers given that one of the key players in the movement, Mark Duplass, stars in what is an extremely enjoyable film. While True Adolescents probably doesn’t qualify as a mumblecore effort itself—or do mumblesome qualities and Duplass’ presence indicate defacto membership?—the fact that a mumblecore regular could participate in an involving narrative with sympathetic characters was highly reassuring.
The film at first seems like an unremarkable “indie” take on a Hollywood standard: the camping trip comedy. But before it’s over, writer/director Craig Johnson ends up taking the story in several unexpected directions that make it engaging. Sam is a thirtysomething loser who plays in a rock band and temporarily bunks with his Aunt Sharon (Melissa Leo) and teenage nephew Oliver (Bret Loehr) after a failed relationship. In a short set-up, Sharon forces Sam to fill the shoes of Oliver’s absent dad, who flakes out on a camping trip planned with Olier’s best friend Jake (Carr Thompson). While the trip follows the structural conventions of the genre—yes, the trio is at one point separated and lost in the woods—comparisons to fellow camping movies end there. Dialogue is sparser than usual, and it’s genuinely fascinating to watch how laid-back loser Sam—the one who puts the “true” in the movie’s title—interacts with his younger counterparts. While initially lacking in apparent maturity and offering advice that only makes him see more juvenile, Sam reveals true character and becomes rather likable in the movie’s shocking, thought-provoking climax. But there’s a lot more to contemplate than Sam’s attitude when it comes to said climax, which is refreshing in its honesty and topicality. Using a conventional mold, writer/director Johnson doesn’t attract any unnecessary attention to plot; instead, he focuses his energy on building these characters and saying something about modern American society while he’s at it. True Adolescents, benign as it initially may seem, proves to be compelling stuff. 3 Buckets out of 4.
After losing my Alamo virginity, it was back to the bustling Paramount for the highest-profile film (excluding opening night’s I Love You, Man) I had seen at the festival yet: Duncan Jones’ Sundance hit Moon. One thing that has fascinated me the entire time here is that the Paramount has a hard liquor license and people drink while watching movies in an auditorium of 1,300, young and old. Okay, fine: I’ll stick to the movies one more time. But only because you asked nicely.
Moon is about as avant-garde and intrinsic as a movie with a big-name lead and modest commercial viability can get away with, and it’s all the more commendable for pushing this boundary as far as it’ll go. It’s a tough movie to review, though, because it has pretty much become an established critical sin to spoil the driving force of the plot in the final two acts. Working to ensure your movie-going experience is just as fresh as mine was, I’ll only divulge the basic premise. Sam Bell (Sam Rockwell) is an astronaut near the end of a three-year tour working on the dark side of the moon harvesting Helium-3, a rare element in nuclear fusion that humans have used to solve the energy crisis on Earth. He’s glad he’ll soon be done, as the distance from his wife and young daughter has been emotionally tasking; the only “person” to keep him company all day is the talking, emoticon-displaying computer he works with, named GERTY (and voiced by Kevin Spacey). But before Sam makes his return voyage, he’s involved in a game-changing Land Rover accident. He survives, but something very peculiar happens, causing Sam to question his very existence and the frighteningly advanced technology around him.
Again, I dare not reveal the plot-point that makes the movie what it is, especially because other reviewers have done such a good job in keeping the secret safe. What I will say is that the movie achieves everything that thought-based science-fiction (the gold standard of which remains 2001: A Space Odyssey) should: it considers the pitfalls of modern technology, makes itself socially and politically relevant through allegory, and provides a credible representation of what the future might be like. Star Wars fans beware: there aren’t any intergalactic battles being fought here. Instead, all the action rests internally in Sam Rockwell’s protagonist, who spends the majority of the movie trying to make sense of what’s going on around him, usually only one slight step ahead of the audience. Rockwell nails the performance by playing intense and smart, but never shying from the humanity of a man who becomes involved in a situation that at once defies humanity and encompasses it. So too does Kevin Spacey, whose recognizable voice initially seems like a misstep on storywriter/director Jones’ part, but clicks on a meta level when one confronts how intertwined celebrity and technology have become.
That Jones set a detailed, credible stage was just as integral to Moon’s success as the performances. He made sure to use all the real science he could, and it shows in the movie’s authentic feel. As if that weren’t enough, Jones made a conscious choice not to use any CGI, meaning all of the visual effects were physically orchestrated. As a result, Moon is not only visually appealing, it’s also that much more believable, making its inferences about the future highly effective. While I must complain that the film gets awful tedious for those of us who aren’t big on sci-fi as it gets more and more abstract, no matter how thoughtful it may be, those who dig the genre of thing will struggle to find a better movie all year. 3 Buckets out of 4.
That’s it for me from Austin, which is no doubt a great American city. If I’m feeling productive and punctual, perhaps I’ll bang out and post another day’s worth of coverage before my plane leaves for San Diego bright and early tomorrow morning—I plan to enjoy my birthday weekend at home before returning to L.A.—but that’s unlikely. Check out my Twitter feed for more recent, reliable updates.
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