In the Peony Pavilion, a sumptuous entertainment house (read: brothel)
Probably
the most gratifying compliment you could pay an actor would be that he disappeared
so completely into a role that you forgot who you were watching. That’s what I
would tell England’s Jamie Bell (the titular Billy Elliot) after witnessing his flawless turn as a
semi-delinquent Georgia teenager in David Gordon Green’s Southern gothic
coming-of-age tale/road movie/suspense film Undertow (Friday, January 28, 8 p.m., Dryden Theatre, 271-4090).
Strangely,
however, the highest praise you could give a director might be to say that when
you saw his film you knew exactly who you were watching. That’s what I would
tell Green… and I just might because he’ll be at the Dryden to introduce the
screening of Undertow and answer
questions like, “How many times have you seen Days of Heaven?”
Undertow is the
29-year-old Green’s third film — first came the festival darling George Washington, followed by the
slightly overpraised All the Real Girls.
Both of those films were set in a ramshackle South populated by the real and
the really eccentric; both featured dialogue that made you feel like you were
eavesdropping; and both were shot by insanely talented cinematographer Tim Orr.
Undertow also enjoys
those qualities, though Undertow utilizes a more traditional story structure than was found in Green’s two
previous films.
Bell
plays Chris, who we meet as he’s impaling his bare foot on a nail while trying
to outrun his girlfriend’s dad. Chris is big brother to Tim (Devon Alan), a
sweet yet disturbed 10-year-old suffering from a compulsion to eat the inedible
(i.e. paint, dirt). Both are sons to farmer John Munn (Dermot Mulroney), a
reticent widower who causes his family to lead a sheltered, lonely existence
and only seems to notice his children when they’re in trouble.
In
swaggers John’s brother Deel (a chilling Josh Lucas), an ex-con whose laidback
demeanor temporarily masks the greed that brought him to the Munns’ doorstep.
Hidden somewhere on the farm are rare gold coins that once belonged to Deel and
John’s father. Deel feels entitled to them and, in a tragic scene, gets them.
Through a series of mishaps — and only in the movies — Chris and Tim
actually wind up with the coins and they take off, with Deel in pursuit.
It’s
a coming-of-age tale because Chris is forced to abandon his selfish ways and
take care of his helpless little brother. It’s a road movie because in their
travels Chris and Tim meet up with a variety of colorful characters, such as
the makeshift family of teenagers and the impoverished yet generous couple who
think they’re helping the boys. And it’s a suspense film because we’re
white-knuckling it the closer Deel gets to Chris and Tim.
I
referenced Days of Heaven since
filmmaker Terrence Malick is obviously a big influence on Green — the
slice-of-life script, the sun-soaked images, the literary allusions. And Malick
must be a fan of Green’s in return, as he’s one of the producers here. Throw in
an interesting score by Philip Glass that occasionally borders on cacophony
(that’s actually not an insult — it works), and with Undertow, David Gordon Green leaves no doubt that he’s one of the
most interesting artists making movies today.
“What the old janitor
did in this room, no one knew.”
We
sure as hell know now. When Henry Darger died in 1973, the reclusive caretaker
left behind a handful of acquaintances and three photos of himself. Also
discovered in his tiny Chicago apartment were 300 double-sided paintings and
30,000 written pages, 15,000 of those pages making up a massive illustrated
novel called In the Realms of the Unreal.
All of this art was by Darger himself.
What
did you do after work yesterday?
In the Realms
of the Unreal (Thursday, January 27, 8 p.m., Dryden Theatre, 271-4090) is
also the title of Oscar-winning documentary filmmaker Jessica Yu’s intriguing
look at Darger’s prolific fantasy world and how it possibly could have sprung
from his mundane everyday life. Darger’s unhappy childhood found him in an
orphanage, followed by a “home for feeble-minded children.”
He
started working as a janitor at a young age and eked out a meager living until
his retirement. He faithfully attended Mass and corresponded with his one
friend. The few people who met him relate the impressions gleaned from their
brief encounters with this unassuming and devout man.
On
his own time, though, he crafted the epic tale of the Vivian sisters, seven
little girls who do battle with evil armies of adults intent on enslaving them.
For the illustrations, the untrained artist would clip images of children and
trace them into the situations he envisioned for them, be they scenes of
idyllic play or violent carnage.
The
decision to animate Darger’s paintings for the film must have been a tricky
one, but it’s done in a respectful way, bringing movement and sound to
previously still graphics. I kept wondering if Darger would have minded, but it
was probably how it looked and sounded in his head as he wove the story.
There
is admittedly something disturbing about a grown man’s fascination with little
girls. In these times it’s easy to jump to the obvious conclusion. The film,
however, only speculates about any possible undiagnosed mental illness and
makes no judgments. Neither should the viewer. It’s about a creative, troubled
person wrestling with his demons the only way he could. As far as I know,
that’s how art is made.
This article appears in Jan 26 – Feb 1, 2005.
