Tumbledown

Reviewing a Nicholas Sparks'-related film is not a happy assignment because of its near-guarantee of maudlin, tear jerking sentiment. Hooray! Because Tumbledown is the anti-Sparks romance, nothing to do with his weepers, in fact a hard-nosed but sympathetic study of Hannah's (Rebecca Hall) writing a biography of her notably- accomplished folk-singer, late husband's short life.

Although this summary might seem Sparksean, it is not that at all. Perhaps the innocence and originality of the production comes from its freshman director, Sean Mewshaw and his collaborating writer, his wife, Desiree Van Til. Both are gifted and devoid of the penchant for cliché so dominant in other romances.

This realist-oriented romance finds Hannah struggling with her writing and her business-associate, a college professor, Andrew (Jason Sudekis). Although a certain element of formula must be present as she insults him regularly (a sure sign they will fall in love), it is 90 min before they kiss—another Hooray! During this first 2/3, most of the dialogue is rapid and sardonic, a sweetness to my word-addicted ears.

Moments occur in this dialogue-driven segment when I am reminded of the early 20th century love of screwball comedic repartee. The rapid fire insults and witticism are nectar to those of us who have grown up on Jud Apatow's romcoms potty humor and pratfalls. While Tumbledown has its moments of pratfalls and excessive dialogue, overall it is balm for the ears, and, given the attractiveness of Hall and Sudekis, a sight for sore eyes.

Because I lived for a year in Northern Maine, I must laud the picture's artists for capturing small town Maine life without parodying its apparent narrowness and gruffness. A warm interior lies at the center of the outwardly hostile natives; it's a warm interior that catches heat from the ubiquitous fireplaces (we had wood stoves). Visitors from the city like Andrew and his girlfriend, Finley (Dianna Agron), may just never qualify for residency the way Hannah does.

"You're the one obsessed with death. My Hunter was obsessed with life." Hannah (Hall) is trying to cope with the death of her husband, and popular singer. She spends her life living in the past and trying everything to keep his memory alive. When Andrew (Sudeikis) shows up wanting to write a book about him he is met with resistance from Hannah. Little by little the more they talk they more they realize they both have something that will help the other one. This is a very good movie that is worth watching, but it also a tad bit generic and cookie cutter like. Most romantic comedies are though so going in I expected that. Sudeikis is great and funny as always, even though this is more serious than we are used to from him. In terms of romantic movies this is one that men will like, maybe more than women. Overall, a movie that I did like but was almost a little too cookie cutter like to be considered original. I give this a B-.

Understated, honest and soulfully choreographed. The cast is engaging, authentic and surprisingly interesting even in the most ordinary situations, of which there are few. Grief may be the premise of this film, but the result is a calm escape into a world you'll be happy to spend some time in.

After reading about the film, I did expect an Indie movie with the usual predictable story lines and romantic frou frou, and there is no shortage of that, but there is another layer of depth that caught me off guard. The intimate warmth of the soundtrack, like the weightless smoke of a dying candle in a quiet room, lingers long after the end credits are over. Some of the songs really are beautiful enough to warrant this type of language, trust me. So do the memories of other musicians who left behind their timeless creations along with the shock and mystery of a lifetime cut short. Martyn Bennett and Jeff Buckley, however different the circumstances of their departure, come to mind.

Whenever an Indie movie finds the perfect balance between lighthearted, mainstream entertainment and the relatability of a smaller story and budget, it proofs that a solid Indie production can transcend the restrictions of a genre and touch the audience beyond 90 minutes of entertainment.

I couldn't think of a single studio produced movie in recent months that achieved 'Tumbledown's subtlety and depth with the same simplicity and grace. To proof my point, this movie would work even without the romance and succeed as a relevant reflection on grief and the responsibility of moving on.

My wife and I watched this at home via Amazon Prime streaming movies.

A woman in a sleepy Maine town, where everyone knows everyone else, works as a part time writer for the local rag. Her husband, a well-regarded composer and singer, had died not long ago in a hiking accident and she was having trouble getting past it.

A Hofstra professor in New York was a fan, he wants to write a proper biography of the singer, so he travels to Maine to see what he can find. This gets him to encounter the young widow.

While this exact story has not been told in a movie it is not unlike many others. The widow and the writer do not get along at all, he is pleasant but frank, she is emotional and resistant to anyone meddling into her dead husband's memory. But he persists and ultimately, fortunately before the movie ends, they begin to find ways to work together. And maybe a nice romance thrown in as a bonus.

A pleasant enough movie for a slow evening after a steak and a bottle of Oregon Cabernet.

Greetings again from the darkness. If I find myself three minutes into a movie and have already executed a couple of eye-rolls, any hopes for a decent little Romantic-Comedy-Drama would ordinarily be dashed. However, having Rebecca Hall's character narrate her writing efforts as she taps away on the keyboard, actually does serve the story. The first feature from director Sean Mewshaw and his screen writing wife Desiree Van Til takes advantage of a beautiful setting, a slew of contrasts, and some heartfelt music to keep us interested in how things plays out.

Ms. Hall plays Hannah, the grieving young widow who has stashed herself away in a lakefront cabin located in the rural Maine community in which she was raised. Her grief remains burdensome some two years after the tragic death of her husband Hunter Miles – a folk singer whose only album (and subsequent death) created a public mystique and a defensiveness on the part of Hannah to protect and control his legacy.

As a Ph.D from Brown, periodic contributor to the local newspaper, and soul mate of Hunter, Hannah undertakes the writing of his biography in the shadow of the studio monument that continues to expand with trinkets left at his gravesite by a cult of fans paying respect. Griffin Dunne plays her friend and owner of the local bookstore and publisher of the newspaper. His less than enthusiastic critique of her early pages of the biography correspond with the vigorous pursuit by a Hofstra Pop Culture Professor with a book publishing deal who wants to make Hunter a key element of his new project.

Jason Sudeikis plays Andrew, and his fast-talking big city mannerisms don't initially mesh so well with the hyper-sensitive and protective grieving widow. The two spar like brother and sister, and the initial adversarial relationship means only one thing in the movie world … romance is in the air. Fortunately, the focus on telling the story of Hunter acts as a form of grief therapy for Hannah and a bit of redemption of spirit for Andrew. Of course, the path to enlightenment is not simple for either. Hannah's "friend with benefits" is a hunky local power company worker played by Joe Manganiello ("True Blood"), and Andrew's big city music industry girlfriend is played by Dianna Agron ("Glee"). But as you would expect, the biggest obstacle faced by the two leads is their own stubbornness.

We learn the most about Andrew and Hannah when they are around others. An Easter luncheon with Hannah's family is especially insightful. Her parents are played by Blythe Danner and Richard Masur, and as viewers we long for more scenes featuring these two characters (and terrific actors). We sense that these parents see right through Andrew and Hannah. Can Hannah let down her guard so that she can move on with life? Can Andrew quell his ambition so that the emotional connection takes place?

Beautifully shot (with British Columbia substituting for Maine), the aspect of nature plays a role in contrasting country girl with city boy, and it's the accidental discovery of a long lost song that highlights the stark difference in motives … while also being the impetus for change. Hunter's original music is heard throughout the film, and it's actually Damien Jurado whose singing and songwriting add an element of intrigue and realism. Hannah, as narrator, states "In the middle, we feel like it's never going to end." While that may be true for many romance movies, the filmmakers here avoid the "too cute" moments that spoil most in this genre … and impressively overcome those early eye-rolls.