Old Joy

Kelly Reichardt
2006

Kelly Reichardt isn't exactly a new voice in American independent cinema per se, but hopefully her latest picture, "Old Joy," will edge her further into the spotlight. This latest offering is a simple meditation on the exact point of a friendship's organic disintegration in the vacuum of an isolated weekend getaway.

Expecting father Mark (Daniel London) gets a call from out-there buddy Kurt (memorably but over-comically played by musician Will Oldham), who wants to know if he'd be interested in hitting up some hidden hot springs in the mountains. After an awkward exchange with third-trimester wife Tanya, Mark sets off in the family station wagon to meet Kurt. What follows is a minor journey between two men, contemplative and reflective, but far from serene. It slowly emerges that Mark and Kurt are a pair of puzzle pieces that no longer fit: seemingly hippy-calm Kurt is an aimlessly drifting bundle of anxieties, while grownup Mark bought into square society a long ways back.

Oddly enough, borders and confinement crop up frequently in a movie that spends much of its time outdoors. The confinement of the car provides an inescapable forum for bouts of uncomfortable catch-up and chitchat. Mark focuses on the road while Kurt regresses into himself with puffs off a weed pipe. The austere scenery is frequently focused on, but is perpetually passing, and one can palpably feel a yearning to reverse this inside-looking-out view. When the two camp out for the night they are just as confined within the low light of the bonfire and a tight camera frame. Finally at the springs, they break from each other and cocoon themselves in separate bathing tubs. The closeness and confrontation of the trip provides no jarring change or concrete resolve, just the solemn, mostly wordless, and bittersweet parting of friends no longer able to connect,

The performances are physically spot-on, and while Oldham and London tune in perfectly to the film's desired tone, delivered lines feel woefully scripted throughout the first half of the picture. Much like its subjects the film is bristling with honesty and control, and only slips when a beer-buzzed Kurt breaks the social contract by verbally lamenting the dissolving friendship. The soundtrack by Yo La Tengo is an unexpected treat, and easily the best film score I've heard in awhile. The steady, free-spirited guitar and gentle drumming provide an integral and life giving heartbeat that tends to provide a reflective segue way between key scenes. Being an ex Yo La Tengo fan I feel a bit embarrassed that I never saw the band's potential for film music.

While Kurt and Mark's relationship is clearly the focus of the film, the two supporting ladies leave powerful imprints, and have a strong, if ethereal hand in shaping it. Wife Tanya has only a few minutes of sreen time and a brief handful of lines, but her quasi- disapproving attitude and semi-nagging presence bind Mark in a way that is completely alien to Kurt's sensibilities. Her cellphone presence is Yoko Ono intrusive, not in an overtly vulgar sense, but as concrete proof of how far gone Mark is. The second lady, Mark's fabulously photogenic canine Lucy, comes along for the ride. Her reciprocated affections towards Kurt provide a subtle layer of tension. Wayward Kurt gets to goof off and play with Lucy, while sensible Mark is burdened with actuality of owning her and dealing with her "separation anxiety" as she barks from the unattended auto.

"Old Joy" really succeeds in its combination of performance, photography, and tone. Its a subtle mood piece that lingers with, and haunts you for awhile after viewing. Unspoken communication has rarely felt this intense on screen, and I think everyone can relate to the to the sad reality of drifting away from a once loved friend. Its this universal factor of human experience, realistically played to the hilt, that is the triumph of "Old Joy."

Review by Brett A. Scieszka