Old Joy

Such a quiet little film, short at just 73 minutes, understated in its direction, and without any grand revelations or events in its plot. The scenery of Oregon that we see from the car and then in the forest is beautiful and evocative, really making me want to get back up there and do some hiking, which made seeing this worth it all on its own. I probably would have liked just a teeny bit more from the script, but the restraint is intentional, and with the barest of brush strokes Kelly Reichardt paints this picture of two friends slowly drifting apart in life that was sad and stirring. One has a wife and is soon to be a father, and the other is nice enough but hasn't gotten on track, smoking a lot of pot and getting the two of them lost. The first guy assures the second that they're still solid friends, but the latter feels him moving on, in part because of his own struggles, and goes so far as to give him an awkward back rub at the hot springs as if to force a level of intimacy that the two don't really have anymore. On the way back there are few words, just passing images out the window at night that fit the melancholy of the film perfectly, and I got the sense that despite what they say about calling one another, it may be years before they ever see each other again, if ever. Moving on in life is sometimes inevitable, but there's an extra sense of sadness here because one of the two is a bit lost, a situation which really hit home for me personally because of a friend I once knew (a guy who never made it past being lost). Reichardt puts in a few other nice touches in the talk radio clips we hear, reflecting issues in American politics and life still relevant today. Really, just a lovely little film, and a near miss for a higher rating.

This is a movie where nothing at all happens. Surprisingly that's not a really bad thing. It is the story of a short dull road trip between two old friends. Two old friends that have nothing to say to each other.

Even though this movie is only about 70 minutes long, there is a still lot of filler. The filler is pretty and quiet in a mellow sort of way. Yo La Tengo's sparse soundtrack goes perfect with the lack of dialog and lack of action. Somehow it actually sort of works.

But I got a real sense of missed opportunity with this film. The filmmaker seems to have nothing to say. While amazingly well executed, there is no real depth to this film. Maybe that's the point. Even if, it felt like it needed more.

It is a nice film to watch if you find yourself in a mellow mood. It's like watching the scenery go by from a train. If you feel like a train ride, this is a pleasant one.

In Kelly Reichart's Old Joy, two thirty-something males who live in the Pacific Northwest reunite for a day-and-a-half trip by car and on foot to a hot spring in Oregon's Cascade Mountains and discover some hours of peace and mutual solitude. It seems that the years have separated them. Once great friends, they haven't been in touch for a while. They aren't the same guys they were and perhaps haven't much in common any more. The stocky, balding, bearded, single Kurt (Will Oldham) is a semi-hippie living marginally who smokes a lot of grass. Mark (Daniel London) is thin and married and both he and his pregnant wife work hard at their jobs. But Reichart is too unemphatic, and her understated dialogue is too naturalistic, for this implied discovery of lost friendship to have any drama, or for the differences between the two men to have any clear point. This is good film-making, but it seems almost at cross purposes with itself.

The colors are rich, the camera is precise, the sounds are finely recorded. The trip is meticulously observed. Reichart sees her little piece of ivory through a magnifying glass. The way Mark and Kurt talk seems authentic and true. They don't present back-stories, because it wouldn't be natural for them to do so -- though Kurt acknowledges Mark's daring in having a child; he says he's never done anything so "real." Mark's wife, glimpsed before the trip and overheard in cell phone conversations, seems neurotic, insecure about this dip back into Mark's pre-marital world. She may understandably feel jealous of the way, when Kurt calls and suggests the trip, Mark comes hopping.

They take Mark's better car, an old Volvo station wagon, and Kurt's directions lead them astray so at night they have to camp by what looks a bit like a dump, not really knowing exactly where they are. There's nothing to give away here. The two guys make the trip. They make it with Lucy, Mark's dog, up to the hot spring the next afternoon. And the rustic shelter set up there for bathing is as Kurt had promised, simple and lovely. Kurt has said there's not much difference between city and country now but this peaceful place belies that notion, except that when they return, their parting is quick, and Kurt is soon out and about by himself in a sleazy part of town and Mark is heading home with an Air America political talk show tuned in again just as it was when he headed out to get Kurt.

The irony is that all this meticulous observation reveals very little. When it's over, we don't know much about who these two men are. We don't know how they knew each other when younger or for how long; We don't know what Mark's job is. And it is not clear that they find each other boring, because they haven't said a lot to each other. Mark has talked a little about his father, and Kurt has told a long story at the hot spring about shopping for a notebook and a dream he just had that provides the title. In his dream a woman told Kurt that "sorrow is nothing but worn-out joy." Is the joy of Mark and Kurt's old friendship worn out and turned to sorrow? NYTimes critic Manohla Dargis, who wrote this week that this is "one of the finest American films of the year," says that at their parting, "from the way Kurt looks at Mark, it seems clear he knows there won't be another reunion." Seems, perhaps; but it isn't really clear. And this is the weakness of Reichart's understated method: it's so subtle, and in its construction so minimal, it risks not really saying anything. Nature and the urban world speak clearly in Reichart's film, but there's a substratum of feeling and experience that finds no voice.

Shown at various film festivals, including San Francisco, and released in Portland, Oregon in August and New York City (Film Forum) in September 2006.

Everyone has been there, had a really close friend when growing up and somehow lost contact only to meet up years later to find that you have taken different paths and it's become a little awkward. You still have your past but as time has moved on you've grown apart. It's an age old story but in this instance told so beautifully against the backdrop of the Oregon woods. Mark (Daniel London) and Kurt (Will Oldham) are the old friends reunited in their weekend camping trip of walking, talking, smoking pot and drinking beer. Along with Mark's dog they venture into the lush forest to look for a set of natural springs that Kurt remembers from a few summers ago. The dynamism between the two characters is great and the casting of Oldham as the kind of drop-out figure against Mark's soon to be dad with his newly found family responsibility is perfect. The soundtrack is hauntingly complimentary to the camera work and overall style and its no surprise that it's done by Yo La Tengo a band known for their sweeping instrumental pieces and at times because the dialogue is so sparse it often feels like your watching one of their videos punctuated by spoken inserts, which is no bad thing. Essentially Old Joy is one of those films where not a lot really happens, there is amazing scenery, comical conversational sections, a moving if very light story about human nature and life and a kind of lament on lost friendships and strange unspoken love. At just over an hour this little American tale unfolds with an exquisite subtlety and not only is it a joy to watch, it also makes you feel kind of warm inside. What a brilliantly rare little movie.

Yes there are some spoken lines in Kelly Reichardt's 'Old Joy', but in reality, the film is about the silences that ornament so much of the film's running time. It is about what's not said by the characters instead of what's actually said. This is a very poignant depiction of two old friends with very different present lives and who have gradually strayed away from each other over time, coming together one last time to silently celebrate and bid farewell to past memories. The film very sensitively portrays the transition that a man has to go through at a specific stage in life. Being a man in my 20s, this film hit me hard as there is a very noticeable sense of suppressed melancholy that permeates almost every shot which I can completely relate with. The fact that this was made by a woman further underlines why the gender of the artist doesn't matter as long as he/she has a deep understanding of the human condition. Big Recommendation.