Junebug

Madeleine (Embeth Davidtz) is a successful Chicago dealer of outsider art. She has a trip to see an artist and takes the opportunity to meet her husband George (Alessandro Nivola)'s family 30 minutes away in North Carolina. His mother Peg (Celia Weston) is bossy and his father Eugene (Scott Wilson) is quiet. His younger brother Johnny (Benjamin McKenzie) is a resentful loser with flighty pregnant wife Ashley (Amy Adams). Ashley intends to name the baby Junebug.

It's very odd to realize that Amy Adams is not the lead actress because she's the main thing I remember about this film. She's a complete whirlwind overpowering everybody and everything. She's crazy hilarious with every facial expression and desperate neediness. The other takeaway for me back then was that Benjamin McKenzie can reasonably act. Watching again, Amy Adams is still hilarious and her energy really drives the movie. Director Phil Morrison's style is quiet indie. It probably could have helped to work more towards Amy Adams' quirky tone.

Junebug Reviewed by Sam Osborn of www.samseescinema.com

Rating: 3.5 out of 4

There's a magic to Junebug that's nearly impossible to describe with words. To explain it literally would be to describe a slow, mundane, and worthless story. But, of course, there's much more to Junebug than a story that's slow, mundane and worthless. Iconic independent director Phil Morrison's film takes a patient and immersive look at small town life. There's a profound harmony at work between the characters that, from my experience with small town family in relatives' homes, seems to be true to reality. All at once each character is happy and unhappy with their situation and with everyone surrounding them. There's pain, but within the pain is deep-rooted happiness and content. And when a foreigner enters the home as new family, we the audience are meant to take the foreigner's perspective.

After meeting George (Alessandro Nivola) at her art gallery's auction, Madeleine (Embeth Davidtz) finds herself married to the man after little over a week. Months later she travels into a rural suburbia of South Carolina to meet with the peculiar and absurdly profound artist David Wark (Frank Hoyt Taylor), and also to meet for the first time her new family. Unfamiliar with the family's southern lifestyle, she enters the house with the open mind unique only to artists. Immediately embraced by the lonely Ashley (Amy Adams), whose relationship to Johnny (Benjamin McKenzie) has yielded a seemingly unhappy pregnancy and lonely marriage, Madeleine is equally repelled by the mother and leader of the household, Peg (Celia Weston). Each couple (the parents, Ashley and Johnny, and Madeleine and George) sleeps in a separate room, divided only by paper thin walls that do little to contain sound, making nights into festivals of eavesdropping. The unborn baby, Junebug, has a room all to herself, seeming to hold all hope that is left for happiness in the family.

In most films where a foreigner enters a deep-rooted household, the story usually loses itself with the dramatic changes the foreigner brings. But Phil Morrison thankfully avoids this cliché and instead lets our foreigner simply observe. There's actually a sequence dedicated entirely to the observation of each room in the home, where we, like the foreigner, are meant to find all the charming nuances of the house's decoration. Meticulous details are fully realized, with the placement of the cigarettes, the oddly shaped and colored lampshades, the material of the couches, and every tiny element of this lifestyle that may be new to all us "city folk." The foreigner actually has as little power over the family as the audience does. Instead of her acting as the catalyst for the family's change, the title character, Junebug, who's kicking and growing within Ashley's stomach holds this power. It's an affective storytelling method that allows us to connect with the foreigner, Madeleine, and consequently, find ourselves immersed further into Junebug's intimate tale.

In a story as quiet and intimate as Junebug, it's imperative that body language plays as much a role as dialogue. The cast must exude emotions past words and extend their skills to inhabit their characters completely. Each actor achieves this rare performance, particularly Amy Adams and Benjamin McKenzie, playing Ashley and Johnny. Their marriage has a unique understanding to it that's difficult for the audience to grasp until the end. But when we realize their situation, the nuances of their performances are blissfully revealed.

Conventional laws of cinema rarely allow small town life to be realistically portrayed. The calm, resonating harmony that resides in the lifestyle doesn't offer much in the way of excitement. I suppose it requires the confidence of an independent distributor and the eye and pen of a wonderful director and screenwriter. Phil Morrison and Angus MacLachlan's collaboration here with Junebug offers up this unique portrait with nothing but extreme and satisfying clarity.

-Sam Osborn of www.samseescinema.com

After viewing "Junebug" for the second time, I have concluded that the film contains a darker theme just beneath the surface of light-hearted humor and gentle parody. Throughout the film, there are occasional shots of empty rooms, silent streets and dark woods that are at odds with the message conveyed by the action. Generally, we are treated to contrasting images: a room filled with people is followed by a shot of the same room, empty and silent. A church parking lot devoid of people followed by the same scene filled with noise and celebration. The dark woods beyond the deck appear sinister. I got the distinct feeling that the filmmaker wished to suggest that the laughter and interaction of this family was a fragile veneer. Just beneath the surface was a terrible emptiness that could not be disguised by gaudy art, wood paneling and the celebration of family rituals. Although the majority of this wonderful film gave a warm and affectionate treatment of this Southern family, these brief images of silence and emptiness are like teasing glimpses of "the skull beneath the flesh." Did anyone else get the same reaction?

A very intelligent script, with direction that does it justice. Rather than spelling out exactly what we're supposed to be thinking and feeling at every moment, the filmmakers respect the audience's ability to infer meaning from the mood and tone, from the light in a frame or the ambient noise of a scene (or, for that matter, from the complete silence in which we occasionally are allowed to contemplate the house and small town where the story is set). As for the actors, they must have been thrilled to have the chance to play such complex, well-rounded characters, each of them at times being fine and even something like noble, at other times frustrating and perhaps even cruel. Just like real people, in other words. Amy Adams deserves the praise she's received for a role that could have easily been a caricature, but I'd like to also mention Embeth Davidtz for her precise and empathetic work in another part that might have easily been done in a hackneyed way.

All through this film, there are moments where we fear that its makers are going to settle for the cliché, but they never do. By the end, we feel that we've learned a great deal about the characters and the community which produced them, and we also sense that we'll never fully grasp all of their mysteries and contradictions. Very fine work from everyone involved.

"Junebug" is a ruefully sweet, clear-eyed take on the going home genre that usually takes the form of prodigal child returning due to a funeral or serious illness with guilt hanging in the air until it ignites an explosion.

Instead, debut writer Angus MacLachlan has brought "George" home to North Carolina as a coincidence of his new wife's job and life has gone on without him and will continue when he's gone again.

Debut director Phil Morrison does a lovely job of visually establishing how each person in the family has staked out their physical space and roles within the family, even as sounds and light uncomfortably carry through the walls and beyond the rooms. I haven't seen every inch of a normal house used as a movie setting so intensively since "The Brothers McMullen," complete with blowing up an air mattress in the nursery.

Those scenes contrast with how different the family members are outside that house, such as the sullen, angry brother (Benjamin McKenzie) perking up comfortably with his fellow warehouse workers and "George" easily fitting back into a church service.

While the usual is to have the spouse's estranged family be colorfully ethnic or straight-laced WASP as a comic contrast, a la the "Meet the Fockers" mode, here they are complicated rural folk and are not condescended to, even as no good deed goes unpunished. Both sides receive their share of mockery and sympathy from the story; everyone's hypocrisy and humanity are revealed and at least two scenes bring tears to the eyes, one touching and the other sad.

While everyone is speaking English, the miscommunications abound, though it is a bit heavy-handed to have the English-bred wife coach the brother on "Huckleberry Finn," let alone her bizarre negotiations with a probably crazy local artist. Each either takes a comment too literally or misinterprets passive aggressive silences; what people don't say comes to be more important than what they do say, as even Amy Adams' wonderfully chatty character is warm-heartedly mature and caring.

The big, annoying weakness of the film, and keeps it from being a satisfying film, is the vague character of the prodigal son. While it seems that his older, folk art collecting wife probably lusted after him at first sight because he was the first cute straight guy who walked into her gallery (and I assume there is some significance that he buys the painting that doesn't make him happy), their quickie marriage seem to be based only on newlywed randiness, as everything seems to turn them on. Taking after his father busy woodworking away in the basement, he pretty much sloths out in the house or car, so it is confusing hypocrisy when he suddenly steps up to the plate in an emergency, accuses his wife of not putting family first and then bails on the follow up.

Alessandro Nivola well portrays a literal golden boy who is, of course, his mother's heart's delight and in her eyes can do no wrong (even he acknowledges that his new wife is bound to discover his faults), though people who have different positions in their families may interpret the sibling behaviors in different ways. But the film only shows us how people react to him and very little about him other than his casual sense of entitlement, though the mostly silent guy to guy communication is realistic.

Other than one superbly beautiful hymn sung by Nivola (he also sang well as rock star in "Laurel Canyon"), the soundtrack does not take the T. Bone Burnett traditional songs approach, but instead has a score by Hoboken, NJ's own Yo La Tengo that doesn't take sides between the country or the big city.