Retratos de Família

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?

We never learn the cause of enmity between the two brothers. Is it serious or is it trivial? Why is George so silent? When his brother throws a wrench at him, hitting him in the head, he leaves without a word. He remains behind at the hospital to be 'be with' and console the sister-in-law; she does all the talking but he doesn't say a word. Throughout the movie people ask George questions, but he doesn't reply. Someone has said that the movie allows the audience to make their own inferences rather than be directed toward a certain end. I can fill an empty space as well as the next man, but I needed a rest from this movie. Way too much empty space!

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.

Some films do not need to tie in every little plot detail in order to make for a more true to life form. Not all families discuss their problems or their angst openly. Most of the time you have to decipher them through little nuanced non-verbal symbols. Junebug does it perfectly.

At the base the plot follows newlyweds on their trek to NC from Chicago as the wife, Madeline, goes to close a deal with an eccentric southern painter. While there they decide to stop in and see her husband, George's family, who comes form NC originally. He has tried to separate himself from that culture and his family altogether. He has been married for six months and his family were not invited to the wedding, and his brother holds strong feelings of jealousy against him. It seems ho-hum form the plot synopsis, but then comes Amy Adams as the brother, Johnathan's wife and very pregnant Ashley.

Amy Adams is absolutely amazing. She brings a charm and wit to this picture when it seems like it is a bit dreary. Her heartwarming turn as an optimistic and young mother to be with a heart of southern gold is achingly warm and sincere. She alone makes the film a must see as she can force the audience from laughter to tears with the flip of a dime.

The direction is poetic and the cinematography allows for an unbelievably laid back southern tone. Nothing about this film is rushed and that makes it so wonderful to behold. Seeing how a family can generally and truly love each other inside, and because of cultural and societal norms strive to find ways to show love and respect for each other is achingly sincere. Sometimes you as the audience scream for them to communicate, especially the brothers as their strife is never discussed or resolved just tolerated.

Overall this film is a great cultural study that goes beyond stereotype to show the love and respect the writer and director have for the material and the people of North Carolina. This is a truly warm and comforting piece of southern pleasure that shines in a pool of darkness that is Sundance 2005.