Realist Cinema: Another Year

Another Year by Mike Leigh, 2010

I don’t find myself in any way qualified to review a Mike Leigh film. The man is a legend for his variety of films mostly focusing on the British working-class and his well-known improvisational techniques used to get the very best out of his performers. Although they may lack the gritty texture of other realist films, an exception being Naked, his films are the epitome of realist cinema and it is always a privilege to watch his work.

Leigh’s latest, Another Year, centres on Tom (Jim Broadbent) and Gerri (Ruth Sheen), a tremendously content older couple living out their peaceful lives in London. The two have a beautiful home, a loving son and grow fresh vegetables in a communal garden outside of town. Tom works as an engineering geologist and Gerri as a councelor at a medical clinic. They frequently have guests over for dinner, during which most of the film’s drama takes place.

The aforementioned guests include the alcoholic Mary (Lesley Manville), a coworker of Gerri’s who is always looking for reassurance that she is either satisfied with being alone or that one day she will find Mr. Right. Then there is Tom’s friend Ken (Peter Wight), an overweight bachelor whose love of food may just be a suppressant for his own sadness. As the guests wine and dine, conversation eventually turns to tears and Tom and Gerri are there to console.





As I watched Another Year, I became more and more frustrated with Tom and Gerri, which I took as a sign of me not liking the film as much as I had hoped. They appear to be the loveliest couple in the world, so I am supposed to like them, right? But I don’t think Leigh meant for the film to be that black and white. This couple isn’t perfect, and like Poppy in Happy-Go-Lucky, a person’s good will creates different reactions in different people – we cannot help everyone. Tom and Gerri continuously harbor these sad cases, even though they don’t look like they are enjoying themselves while doing it. For whatever reason, whether it is pity or genuine concern, they bring these people back into their lives and I found myself annoyed that they did so. But then I realized that maybe this annoyance is granted, and might just be a suitable reaction to Leigh’s work here. The film isn’t simply about good people helping other people in need, but the variety of reasons they do such things and how they come together to interact. Also a rumination on loneliness, the film has various layers to speak of.

The performances in the film are all-around wonderful. Ruth Sheen and Jim Broadbent are believably in love, and stolen glances here and there show true feelings behind their warm smiles. At first Lesley Manville’s Mary appeared to me as an unbelievable eccentric, but I came to respect Leigh and Manville’s choice to throw her quirks in our face. Mary may seem a bit erratic and strange, but the performance is one that becomes well rounded for it. Anyone else might have gone for something subtler, so it was refreshing to watch a true character creation. A cameo from Imelda Staunton at the beginning of the film is also fantastic.

Another Year's simple construction (the film's events take place over the defined four seasons of one year) can take away from the free-flowing elements of the dialogue and story, but it also allows Leigh to do what he does best: develop intricate characters and relationships, and give us the treat of watching said events unfold.

4 out of 5

Realist Cinema: Blue Valentine

Blue Valentine by Derek Cianfrance, 2010

After months of waiting, it finally came. After months of working through the acknowledged, acclaimed, and critics-groups-awarded films of October, November and December, Derek Cianfrance’s Blue Valentine has reached the cinemas of Toronto. After months of only having a charming ukulele dance scene to view on Youtube, I was able to sit down and watch one of my most anticipated films of 2010.

Blue Valentine stars Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling as couple Cindy and Dean, and follows the evolvement of their relationship over time in a fractured narrative style. We are first introduced to their characters at a particular stage where Cindy and Dean are in their early thirties, married and with a child named Frankie. Dean drinks beer in his undershirt and jokes and tickles his daughter, a cigarette hanging on his lips. Cindy appears to play the adult role in the family, preparing their daughter’s breakfast while Dean and Frankie make a mess of it. Petty arguments ensue. There are obvious strains in their marriage.

Cut to years back. Cindy and Dean have not yet met. The world is a sunny place, fuller of hope and possibilities. Dean is hired as a mover, while Cindy is studying medicine. When Dean sees Cindy for the first time during a move, it is love at first sight.



The film is edited to great effect in this past and present style. Arguments in the present about specific subjects become clear when the past is revisited, while the juxtaposition of the two makes the central romance and its decay that much more meaningful. What was once something bright has become dull and painful and the attempts made to renew that love fail in comparison to the ease at which it began. The cinematography also aids in the juxtaposition, with the past shot in a carefree, handheld documentary style, and the present more controlled, with icy blue overtones evident in the picture.

Although the various reasons behind the central relationship's deterioration are never fully realized, Blue Valentine is a work of honesty because there are no simple answers and no one person is at fault. A documentary-style, observational drama, Cianfrance's approach smartly makes the film realistic and relatable. Certain events may be uncomfortable to watch, but are never that out of the ordinary, and although one may feel the film lacks cinematically because of its lack of narrative extremities, I think it is better for it. When the film does move in that direction, such as a particularly explosive scene at Cindy's work, it tries too hard to be more interesting, and instead pulls away from what was already interesting enough - the dialogue, and lack thereof, between the central characters.

Williams' and Gosling's performances are spectacular, their chemistry filling the frame. While I feel the character of Cindy is a bit too cold in what is considered the present, with her constant angry demeanor threatening to comprise her other layers, Michelle Williams is wonderful at subtlety and body language. Watch her neck tense as Gosling's character attempts a rendezvous in the shower. Similarly, Dean's character in the present may at times verge on being a white-trash cliche, but Ryan Gosling creates a likable and complicated man. Dean's mood swings and his charm vary in an instant. He is wonderful to watch.

Derek Cianfrance has created a complicated modern age relationship drama about a generation that is more often than not portrayed in silly, sexualized comedies. It is refreshing because of its seriousness and realism, and Cianfrance should be commended for the risks he takes here. If a cinema verite-styled ukulele scene is one of the most touching scenes I have witnessed this year, he must be doing something right.

4 out of 5

Realist Cinema: Meek's Cutoff

Meek's Cutoff by Kelly Reichardt, 2010

After the masterworks that are Old Joy and Wendy and Lucy, director Kelly Reichardt has become one of my favourite directors working today. Her attention to observation and simplicity give her works a humanistic feel – one driven more by the subtle nuances relationships evoke instead of flashy action scenes.

Reichardt’s newest film, Meek’s Cutoff, screened at the Toronto International Film Festival this month, and after slight debating, I bought a ticket. I knew I had to see the film no matter what, but as a rule I try to see the festival films that may not get a theatrical release in the city. Word on the street is that Meek’s Cutoff will probably not screen in Toronto until 2011, so I decided to break my rule and spend the extra cash to watch the film in Toronto’s new cinema Mecca, the TIFF Lightbox.

Set in the 19th century, Meek’s Cutoff is the story of a group of families traveling the unending plains of the Western United States. Led by the titular Stephen Meek (Bruce Greenwood), the immigrants are walking to a destination where Meek states they will be able to settle and make a better life for themselves. When we first meet our clan, they are wading through a river with their provisions and wagons, three weeks past their promised arrival date. The families struggle to traverse the dusty landscape and to feed themselves and the animals that assist them in their transport.

As each day passes, the more the characters question their leader. Paranoia leads to discussions by the men about Meek possibly being in cahoots with Natives who want these travelers led to their deaths. When a Cayuse man (Rod Rondeaux) is spotted and captured, tables are turned, and the group decides to use the man to lead them to a source of water to quench their thirst and fill their barrels. Meek, untrusting, tries to sway the decision.



Meek’s Cutoff plays out as a series of simple events: the travelers collect wood, sit to eat and pray, set up camp then pack up again. Many of these scenes play out in almost silence, and as a means for simple, documentary-style observation, they are beautiful to look at, but never really add up emotionally. Their journey is one that could be described as hell, but the immigrants’ actions and discussions never really made me feel connected to their plight. Their origins are never discussed and after an hour passes and “nothing happens”, one is left clinging for some sort of drama to appear.

Now the phrase, “nothing happens” can be interpreted in different ways. One may argue, “nothing happens” in both Wendy and Lucy and Old Joy. The characters in those films spend much of their time sitting around and ruminating about their situations. But with her first two features, Reichardt succeeded enormously on the subtlety of her surroundings and the performances. We learned much about Mark and Kurt’s complicated friendship through a small campfire discussion, and really felt for Wendy when she called her family back home and received only a short, unhelpful response. In Meek’s Cutoff, we are distanced from the characters to a point where we never really connect to them. Other than watching these people learning to trust a Native man who is completely alien to them (even this seems a little inconsequential – Michelle Williams’ immigrant wife character, first terrified, appearing all of a sudden willing to approach him) we are offered very little in the way of the human drama we have come to expect from Reichardt’s realist storytelling.

The film has its redeeming qualities in the beautiful cinematography (that many of you are now familiar with as shot in the classic 1.35:1 Academy ratio) and Rod Rondeaux’s solemn, stoic performance. Miscast are Shirley Henderson and Michelle Williams, as two wives in the group. Henderson’s British accent came through during many of her lines and made me wonder if her character was meant to be British. Williams is not particularly bad in her role, but the world-weariness the Oregon landscape called for seemed missing from her performance. She simply didn’t feel like she belonged. Bruce Greenwood’s Meek is simply a caricature, what felt like a cringe-inducing Yosemite Sam impression. The musical score also felt tagged on. It was minimalist and used to minimal effect.

With such beautiful, previous results, I could not help being nervous before viewing Meek’s Cutoff. Reichardt secured herself as a master of observing modern living and relationships that I wondered if a period piece could evoke the same feelings. Upon leaving the theatre, other than feeling thirsty, what came to mind was not necessarily the time and place that mattered, but the content. And in this case, the proverbial water barrel felt half-empty.

2 out of 5

Realist Cinema: Winter's Bone

Winter's Bone by Debra Granik, 2010

God knows I love a good documentary, but of course I indulge in different types of film. Therefore I have decided to dedicate a section of this blog to Realist Cinema. Although there doesn't seem to be a specific definition for this genre, I see any film with a docu-drama feel fitting this category.

There have been some prominent realist American films over the past few years that are set in the hostile, rural terrains of the American landscape. Ballast, Frozen River and the films of Kelly Reichardt (maybe less so, due to their warmer climates) fit the bill. This renaissance of simplicity over spectacle has aroused great interest in me. After seeing notices for Debra Granik's Winter's Bone, I knew that I had to check it out.

17 year-old Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence) lives in the Ozark Mountains, taking care of her young siblings and ill mother. Ree struggles daily to provide, hunting for squirrels in the forest and counting on neighbours for provisions, even for the family's horse. When Ree is told her mostly absent, drug-abusing father put up the Dolly home as his bail and failed to attend his trial, Ree makes it her mission to find him before the property is taken away in a week’s time.

This is when Ree’s adventure of sorts begins. In a desperate search for her father, Ree treks to the homes of various neighbours she knew he was in contact with. She speaks with Teardrop (John Hawkes), her uncle, who is infuriated with Ree every time she brings up the subject of her father. When she is told in confidence to seek out the home of one particular resident, her resistance to find answers is met with fierce caution. A search for a missing man becomes a life or death situation.



Winter’s Bone is both terrifying and beautiful. The landscape is stark, but the blues and greens of the forest and mountains are magisterial. These characters inhabit a world that at once offers nothing, yet is surrounded by infinity of discovery. The cinematography plays up the landscape, and the absolutely beautiful soundtrack that utilizes the music of the local inhabitants gives the hardships seen in the film a poetic resonance.

Lead Jennifer Lawrence is fearless in her depiction of Ree. She is hard-nosed and authoritative, and Lawrence doesn't shy away from any gruesome characterizations other actresses may have found too dirty. John Hawkes is also a great discovery, giving Teardrop a spectrum of emotions - he is at once despicable and caring. I knew I recognized Dale Dickey, who plays the convincingly brutal Merab. She guest-starred in a couple of episodes of Breaking Bad, playing a witch-like crack addict to great effect. Another stupendous and rangy portrayal.

Although I did enjoy the film, I felt it was repetitive when Ree traveled to the various neighbours' homes in search of answers. Another trek to another location. I understand that it displayed her need to persist, but it felt a bit redundant. A dream sequence including squirrels also seemed a bit out of place.

Winter's Bone is a film of brutality and the struggle to survive amongst an austere locale and people (a scene where Ree confronts some of these people is one of the most terrifying scenes I have seen in a while). It isn't shy in this sense, and I applaud the film's vision and honesty.

3 1/2 out of 5