Time Out of Mind

In 2009, director Oren Moverman created one of the most relevant and moving post-9/11 war films of our generation with The Messenger. Blending subtle realities of the peculiarities of individual family traditions with the overly-patriotic mentality of American society, the film was a deliverance of cinematic importance and high entertainment. Five years later, and after his sophomore feature Rampart, Moverman returns to the screen with Time Out of Mind, a film that showcases another unglamourous reality of Western society; homelessness.

It is no surprise that Moverman is being recognized as one of America's foremost independent filmmakers in a short period of time. Paying great attention to visual style as well as sonic and narrative elements of his films, the director offers an observational cinematic piece that is both powerfully empathetic and transformative for the perception of an unwanted and disconcerting part of society.

Time Out of Mind is a fairly simple film, with an easy to follow premise. What draws the film to the territory of deep pain and sentiment is the process in which the film so obviously takes to deliver a multi-layered understanding of the most unnoticed population of society.

One of the first and more interesting details that draws our attention to the film is the choice to cast Richard Gere as George; a dishevelled and drunk homeless man. Barely walking the streets of New York City, drunk, humiliated and decrepit, Gere embodies to the best of his abilities the 'typical bum'. An American acting master and icon known for his more debonair roles, Gere covers himself in rags and abandons the riches to play George, a man who describes his existence as one, big life-long quarrel.

Down on his luck and left with nothing after the death of his wife, George, barely fighting off the frigid temperatures of the Big Apple after being kicked out of a dilapidated apartment, finds refuge in one of the few temporary housing projects found within the concrete jungle. More like a prison than a home, George finds minor solace once he befriends a seasoned homeless man Dixon (Ben Vereen) as well as various opportunities to re-connect with his daughter Maggie (Jena Malone).

Once the audience gets over the bizarre casting choice of Gere in the lead role, we are able to observe, as Moverman does, the bigger picture. Moverman, along with director of photographer Bobby Bukowski (who seemed to have more films at TIFF this year than the Weinstein brothers), achieve excellence in the visual style of filmmaking for Time Out of Mind. Adopting a distinct, original perspective by placing a very displaced and stagnant George (Gere) amongst the bustling and busy city of New York, along with its people, shining street lights and fast-paced tempo, George's isolation as well as self-deprecated demeanour is always seen and understood from a distance without ever really getting too close.

While the star and filmmaker professed that much of the filming took place on the New York City streets during the day, when Gere was in costume, no one seemed to recognize him nor cared to be very close to him. This initial, obvious reaction by people when they are seen coming into contact with homeless individuals, is embodied fully by Moverman and Bukowski, thanks to the use of shooting scenes on rooftops, through the reflections of puddles, liquor stores or ultra- zooming the lens from blocks away. In a way, the film is a highly researched yet fairly obvious mentality of people who go out of their way to notice and avoid the street walkers of big cities. Time Out of Mind, simply for being an innovative look at the life of shelter-dwellers, casts a very respectable spell on its audience.

Although the film may seem thirty minutes too long, Moverman delivers an intimate portrait that discovers uncharted territory in independent American cinema using A-List Hollywood talent. Gere, who is front-and-centre as George throughout the film, never taking a break away from the camera, really delivers on, what seemed to be his passion project. Sadly, Gere, who is still solid as George, never really allows us to believe in his strife. Operating at low gear, torquing and reeling in his audience with subtle charm and wit, Gere is constantly overshadowed, despite powerful scenes, including a delicate moment of realization.

Whether hovered over a piano as Dixon, looking at the black-and-white keys, Vereen outshines Gere as a talkative homeless veteran, delivering nuanced and emotionally responsive scenes naturally and effortlessly. Yet, the real star of the film, given her limited screen-time, is Malone, a Moverman staple, who steals scenes with Gere in a laundromat, on the streets, or in the final scenes of a bar. Malone's facial expressions alone captivate, and comment greatly on a usually undocumented time when children, who are equally struggling in life professionally, emotionally and mentally, have to be the ones to support their parents, and not the other way around. Malone is nothing short of an acting revelation.

Time Out of Mind is the quintessential definition of Moverman's experimental apathetic filmmaking technique. George is living in a world that is constantly moving and happening around him. Life is literally passing him by. It is in his stillness, Moverman's confident casting decision and powerful commentary that the film allows us to forget it's flaws of pace and time.

A tough movie to watch to say the least. It's not all shine and glory in this one. A lot of people would say this movie qualifies as "waste of time". And it is, if you cannot tune into the mindset and the general idea of the movie. What it tries to tell us and how it tries to achieve that goal. It could easily be a documentary. Actually some scenes could be have been shot "on the fly".

Gere goes all out for a role that really is tough to pull off. Homeless people are not something most of us are concerned, especially when it does affect us directly. And it is showing with how we handle them or how we approach them (there are a few things/scenes early on, that underline that sentiment). It's drama and if you are prepared for it, the movie will reward you. But if it's not your thing, you'll know early on and shouldn't continue to watch ...

This is exactly what I might feel like if I were homeless or just aimless, which I've been at times. The boredom and daily routines stripped down to basic necessities seemed very realistic. It stood out as the only "bum film" I've seen that didn't seem cliché-ridden.

Those who need constant hooks to stay entertained probably won't get it, but it does have its share of tense moments. There's also the mystery of how he reached that state, including an apparent scar that I originally thought belonged to Gere but may have been created for the film. Those who stick with it for awhile may get mesmerized by the slow, detailed story.

The film was apparently not widely publicized, hence the small number of reviews at the moment. A reviewer who glibly gave it one star skewed the overall rating here (come on, people). I highly recommend it for viewers with intellect, though it's about a guy who's lost some of his.

Greetings again from the darkness. Poverty, mental illness and homelessness collide in this film from writer/director Oren Moverman (Oscar nominated for The Messenger). About the third time I asked myself if something was ever going to "happen", it dawned on me that it was already happening. This is Moverman's illumination of how society treats the homeless, and his vehicle comes in the surprising form of Richard Gere.

We follow George (Gere, making good use of his familiar facial tics and mannerisms) around the city as he bounces from vacant apartment to hospital to churches to second hand clothing stores … and finally to one of the city's homeless shelters. It's at this point where George befriends the talkative and seemingly helpful Dixon, played by the great Ben Vereen.

One of the key points the film makes is how the homeless are basically invisible to the rest of society. The characters describe this as being a cartoon – meaning, they aren't even "real" people to the masses of NYC. Supposedly, Gere was in character on the streets and was passed by without anyone noticing. Vereen's character helps George get on track for re-establishing his identity. See, without any form of ID, there is no welfare, food stamps, etc (except, of course, voting – a topic for another time). The only real sub-plot involves George and his estranged daughter played by the always excellent Jena Malone. She excels in her scenes with Gere, and provides the most sincere and affecting emotion in the film.

It's a very odd movie, as there are numerous "quick hit" scenes that feature such fine actors as Steve Buscemi, Michael Kenneth Williams, Kyra Sedgwick, Geraldine Hughes, and Jeremy Strong. None are on screen for much time, but each help demonstrate the daily challenges faced by the homeless who are so dependent on the charity of others.

It takes a patient viewer to stick with Gere's character as he comes to grips with his situation, but the camera work shooting inside/out and outside/in (through windows, doors, etc) provides visual interest, as do the lively and real sounds and movements of the streets of NYC. It may not pack the punch of The Messenger, but it's further proof that Oren Moverman's insightful projects deserve attention.

George (Richard Gere) is homeless in New York. He gets kicked out of Sheila's apartment by Art (Steve Buscemi) and his workers. He is sleeping on the streets, and hanging out at the hospital as he tries to navigate the system. He stays at a shelter. On the streets, he's accosted by Dixon (Ben Vereen) who befriends him. He is estranged from his daughter Maggie (Jena Malone).

It's a mostly reserved performance. Gere basically disappears into this role. In some scenes, he fades into the background. It's a really compelling idea of the modern untouchables. There isn't much of a dramatic story as he drifts from one scene to the next. There are some memorable moments like the crazy guy in the next bunk in the shelter. The movie is unnecessarily long. One could get the same points in something with thirty minutes less.