Film Fest 919 Report 3: WILDLIFE, NON-FICTION & THE SISTERS BROTHERS

And just like that, this will be my final set of capsule reviews from Film Fest 919. The festival was an enormous pleasure to cover, and I got the opportunity to see some of the strongest films of the year. With this group of reviews, we’re ending on a high note, tackling Paul Dano‘s subdued directorial debut, Olivier Assayas‘ chatty breakdown of 21st century talking points, and Jacques Audiard‘s uniquely emotional tale of violence in the West.

To kick things off, let’s dive into a quiet, critically acclaimed portrait of a crumbling Montana family.

Wildlife (Paul Dano)

On first glance, Paul Dano‘s Wildlife seems like it’s heading in a somewhat obvious direction. For this portrait of a family’s inner struggle, Dano and co-screenwriter Zoe Kazan employ a few metaphors that feel a little too on the nose for such a quiet, internal drama. I mean, the central concept involves a raging wildfire standing as the backdrop for domestic disturbances, which feels like a prime example of blunt storytelling in action. At one point, Jake Gyllenhaal even says, “Well, it’s a wild life, son!”

I note these missteps not to criticize Dano, but to shed light on how Wildlife remarkably overcomes its more clear-cut elements. This is a thoughtful reinvention of the family melodrama, a film that simmers for long stretches before boiling over into anger and violence in an instant. Dano directs this story with a careful touch, beautifully blending evocative flourishes, a muted aesthetic, and a trio of strong performances. In doing so, he captures a relationship destined to burn, shedding light on the young man stuck in the middle of it all.

The young man in question is Joe Brinson (Ed Oxenbould), a fairly typical student in early 1960s Montana. For the Brinson family, this is just the latest in a string of major moves over the last several years. Joe’s father, Jerry (Gyllenhaal), is working at a local golf club, but gambling with the customers ends up costing him his job. When she hears the news, the perpetually positive Jeanette Brinson (Carey Mulligan) views this as a chance for her husband to find a new job and for her to return to work.

Jerry doesn’t quite see it that way. He’s lost, in the middle of a crisis he can’t explain or rationalize. One morning, he gets up and decides to fight the raging fire in the nearby mountains. This causes a spiral within the Brinson family; Jerry leaves, Jeanette’s sunny attitude evaporates entirely, and Joe is forced to stand between the two and watch it all unfold. In the process, Joe becomes the sole confidant and witness for his mother’s affair with Warren Miller (Bill Camp), a sophisticated and somewhat crass man who takes a liking to Mrs. Brinson.

So essentially, you have two flawed human beings crumbling simultaneously, nearly taking their only son down in the process. The key to the film lies in a scene near the midpoint, which finds Jeanette taking Joe on a trip to the fire in the mountains, so he can see what his dad left them for. As they drive back, the disillusioned housewife talks about the “standing dead,” a nickname for dead trees that still hang around after the fire is put out. They’re empty and rotten inside, but they can’t fall down. They still stand. Sound like any characters we know?

It also doesn’t hurt to have Jake Gyllenhaal and Carey Mulligan as your leads. Gyllenhaal‘s character is gone for large sections of the film, but he still makes an impression as a seemingly good-natured man with a fearsome darkness growing inside him. While it’s a smaller role for the actor, Dano knows how to use both the Oscar nominee’s warm likability and his knack for outbursts of frightening anger. As good as Gyllenhaal is in Wildlife, this is pretty much the Carey Mulligan show. In a remarkable balancing act of a performance, Mulligan manages to empathize with Jeanette and question her actions in the wake of a profound shock.

In regards to both characters, it’s perhaps most interesting to see how these broken souls interact with young Joe, played to wide-eyed perfection by Ed Oxenbould. For his parents, Joe is less a child and more of a trusted adviser. They disclose secrets, encourage him to take sides, and share information that probably shouldn’t be shared. It feels like Jerry and Jeanette never grew up, forced to confide in their helpless son because there’s nowhere else they can go. Joe stays in the middle, caught between two lives that existed well before he was here.

Dano captures the drama in all of its uncomfortable poignancy, rarely shying away from a chance to show the truth of the family’s collapse. It’s a methodical, emotional, and consistently engaging directorial debut.

Non-Fiction (Olivier Assayas)

If you enjoy listening to French intellectuals talk about both changes in the publishing industry and their own personal affairs, then writer/director Olivier Assayas‘ Non-Fiction will probably be a little slice of heaven. While I was concerned that I would quickly grow tired of watching people hang out and talk, I left the theater elated. Assayas has taken a series of funny, enlightening discussions and spun them into something that feels significantly more substantial, a survey of trivial interactions in the midst of unparalleled cultural change. It sounds like a downer, but it’s actually the most delightful film I saw at Film Fest 919.

Guillaume Canet stars as Alain, a prominent publisher in modern Paris. Alain is both beloved and attacked for his ability to react to the cultural zeitgeist, but even the savvy businessman has a hard time accepting the rapid changes of the era. At the start of the film, Alain is meeting with Léonard (Vincent Macaigne), a popular author with an impulsive tendency to write autobiographical accounts of his sexual affairs, to discuss another book. Despite the writer’s enthusiasm for his new material, he’s rejected by his longtime publisher – the book is just too scandalous this time.

Later, we’re introduced to Selena (Juliette Binoche), a popular TV star and Alain’s wife, who suspects that her husband is having an affair. She doesn’t seem particularly upset by this, but she feels it’s true all the same. Alain is indeed spending time with Laure (Christa Théret), the new head of digital transition at his publication. But Selena is also having an affair – with Léonard. Did I mention that the author is already in a long-term relationship with Valérie (Nora Hamzawi), a powerful political operative? The cultural world is evolving at an uncontrollable rate, but for everyone in Non-Fiction, it might just be background noise for more pressing concerns.

Assayas‘ latest is basically a low-key hangout movie, rooted firmly in those aforementioned personal and social conversations. Despite its larger scope as a reflection on possibly cataclysmic issues, Assayas‘ dialogue has a wonderfully light touch, building running jokes and developing a closer relationship between the viewer and these individuals with each passing scene. Even with a minimal amount of plot to sustain it, the film builds impressive comic and thematic momentum. By the final act, each new quip or witty remark lands like a knockout punch.

The characters are tremendously endearing as well, partially thanks to their seemingly endless array of flaws. Léonard betrays the trust of every romantic partner he’s ever had and Alain and Selena barely pay attention to their child, but you’ll come to love them anyways. Canet and Binoche‘s easy-going rapport gives the film this infectiously loose, improvisational energy, while Macaigne makes his struggling author the amusing embodiment of chaotic evil (in a good way). From the most philosophical of discussions to the mundane encounters, it’s just all so compulsively watchable.

But when push comes to shove, Assayas‘ larger template proves to be instrumental in elevating Non-Fiction from a solid piece of arthouse fun to a more significant work. In the film’s world, nothing is stable. Blogs are more popular than published works. Compilations are published with increasing frequency. E-books seem like the way of the future. Even Alain’s boss is contemplating selling off his assets and moving on from the company.

Non-Fiction takes place during the final days of a world on the cusp of a rebirth. Publishing is just one small industry, but it’s emblematic of something bigger. Alain, Selena, and Léonard are all keenly aware of this, especially the astute publisher. Still, these tectonic shifts aren’t the end of the universe, and they certainly won’t keep anyone from having an affair or two. Personal and global matters are in constant conflict here, an idea that’s all too familiar in 2018. And for his ultimate trick, Assayas makes the micro troubles just as compelling as this industry’s macro concerns.

The Sisters Brothers (Jacques Audiard)

To state the blatantly obvious, Jacques Audiard‘s The Sisters Brothers is not a normal Western. After all, how many entries in the genre spend a significant amount of time discussing the plausibility of a utopian society?

But it’s not a Western comedy either. The trailer for the film (which has since struggled immensely at the US box office) sold a charming, fairly lightweight buddy flick in the Old West, with Joaquin Phoenix and John C. Reilly trading one-liners and gunshots in equal measure. That’s not exactly the case. In execution, Audiard‘s film functions mainly as a commentary on the nature of violence and brotherhood in the West itself, comparing visions of societal order and examining the potential of ending the bloodshed that has sustained this lawless realm for so long. Heavier than you were expecting, right?

Reilly and Phoenix lead the show as Eli and Charlie Sisters, respectively, a team of outlaws who have made a name for themselves as ruthless thieves and killers in the 1850s Pacific Northwest. Charlie is the brash, hair-trigger madman of the duo, an alcoholic who is heavily invested in the duo’s mythological status. On the other hand, Eli is the more measured of the two, responsible for making sure his younger brother doesn’t get into too much trouble.

After a violent opening shootout, the story is set in motion thanks to new orders from the Commodore (the Brothers’ main boss). The intrepid, sophisticated John Morris (Jake Gyllenhaal with a wild accent) is currently on the tail of Hermann Kermit Warm (Riz Ahmed, re-teaming with his Nightcrawler co-star), a prospector in possession of a formula for tracking down gold. When they realize Morris has gone rogue with Warm, the Brothers ride off in pursuit, but this job is destined to get a lot more complicated from here.

Truth be told, it’s hard to whittle down exactly what Audiard is doing here into a short review, especially when you’re only going from one viewing. Like many other films at the festival, The Sisters Brothers is a snapshot of a transitional phase in history, one that sees Charlie’s dream of the Old West replaced with Morris and Warm’s new social vision. It’s about a clash between myth and reality, between the desire to romanticize a world of lawless freedom and the assessment of that freedom’s violent damage.

This is a challenging take on the Western, yet the film’s truth lies in its core performances, specifically from Reilly and Phoenix. Yes, Gyllenhaal and Ahmed are marvelous as a pair of would-be idealists caught in a precarious situation, but this film belongs to those dastardly brothers. The two actors are working in such different keys, which makes it all the more impressive to see how the characters intersect and clash. For Reilly‘s Eli, the script (written by Audiard and Thomas Bidegain) seeks to discover how his nearly parental relationship with Charlie came to pass, revealing information at a measured, intelligent rate. There’s a deep sadness within The Sisters Brothers, and Reilly seems to hold much of it.

Phoenix, probably one of the finest actors working today, gets the chance to play around with a showy, internally tortured character, the kind of man who could explode at any minute. If Reilly‘s Eli holds the key to the film’s melancholy spirit, Phoenix‘s Charlie possesses much of its thematic pathos. The younger, more unpredictable of the pair demonstrates a greater capacity for violence and egotistical inflation; he wants his own legend to be intimidated and feared. Audiard and Phoenix patiently chip away at Charlie’s own machismo, culminating in a conclusion that’s both harrowing and heartfelt.

Violence is an infrequent occurrence in The Sisters Brothers, but it always feels viscerally real. Audiard seeks to investigate and de-construct the mythos of the gun-slinging outlaws, finding the deeply held emotional rationale for these shootouts and skirmishes in a brotherhood based on conflict. And at that level, the film proposes a different path to riches and peace, one that may be just out of Eli and Charlie’s reach. Yes, The Sisters Brothers is a strange and unusual Western, even a bit too sluggish at times. But I can guarantee one thing – every viewer will walk out of the theater with something to think about.

Once again, this will be my final set of capsule reviews from Film Fest 919. Thanks for reading!

Which of these films are you most excited to check out? Are you a fan of previous work from these directors? Let us know in the comments below!

Wildlife will be released on October 19, 2018 in the US and on November 9, 2018 in the UK. For full international release information, click here. 

Non-Fiction will be distributed by Sundance Selects in the US in 2019. For full international release information, click here. 

The Sisters Brothers was released in the US on September 21, 2018. It will be released on April 5, 2019 in the UK. For full international release information, click here.