Director Report Card: Cate Shortland (2017)

4. Berlin Syndrome

Throughout her still developing career, Cate Shortland has flirted with the thriller genre. "Somersault" had that one, brilliantly tense sequence. “The Silence” hovered around being a thriller without ever succeeding at it. “Lore” was certainly grim and unsettling, though not exactly in the way you expect from a genre effort. All along, the director was clearly showing mastery of the various building blocks necessary to make good suspense. With her fourth feature, she would finally commit. “Berlin Syndrome,” based on a novel by Melanie Joosten, sees Shortland moving in a more commercial direction without leaving behind the ideas she's explored in her previous films.

Clare, an Australian backpacker, travels to Berlin in hopes of photographing the sights of the German city. She meets a handsome man named Andi, a teacher. The two spend the night together. The next morning, Andi goes to work and leaves Clare locked in his apartment. At first, she assumes this was a simple mistake. After Andi returns, acting as if nothing unusual happened, it becomes increasingly clear to Clare that he doesn't plan on letting her leave. He restrains her, threatens her with violence, and attempts to manipulate her. Clare quickly discovers that she is not the first girl Andi has captured either.

After quickly deducing that Andi has trapped her, Clare smashes a window with a chair. The glass is double-pained. Later, she injuries Andi and makes a run for it. He immediately scoops her back up. While out in public, she attempts to alert a young boy of what's happening. The kid doesn't speak English. After successfully alerting a bystander, Andi kills the man before he can rescue Clare. Is this frustrating for anyone else? That's precisely the point. “Berlin Syndrome” puts the audience in Clare's place. She is trapped in a seemingly inescapable hell. The viewer is trapped with her. An atmosphere of grim tension quickly overtakes you, as you wonder if there's any way out of this prison.

How you feel watching Clare's escape plans get continually dashed is how every woman trapped in an abusive relationship feels. That is what's most unsettling about “Berlin Syndrome:” There's nothing extraordinary about Andi's abuse. He repeatedly gaslights her, ignoring her concerns and treating this situation as normal. When doing horrible things to her, he insists it's her fault. He neglects her when she doesn't interest him, leaving her locked inside the apartment without power for days. When she bonds with a pet dog, he quietly, remorselessly kills it. My mom's first husband, a piece-of-shit who beat her regularly, did that too. Even the suggesting of leaving the apartment is met with a threat of violence. A girl I knew in college had a boyfriend do that to her as well. “Berlin Syndrome” is a horror movie not in spite of but precisely because of how totally plausible its horror is.

It's a horror movie for other reasons too. While Clare is trapped inside her room, she slowly uncovers clues that Andi is a serial killer. Hidden throughout the apartment are remains of the last girl Andi did this to. All of these discoveries are the kind that make you squirm: A scrapbook full of nude photographs, a lock of blonde hair fished out of a shower drain, a bloody fingernail stuck into a floorboard. You feel the same sort of revulsion Clare feels as she finds these gruesome hints. “Berlin Syndrome” shows that Cate Shortland actually has a pretty good grasp on a disquieting, even gross, type of horror.

When not suggesting acts of brutal violence, “Berlin Syndrome” occasionally actually shows them. A notable moment has a screwdriver being slammed into Andi's hand. He counters this by smashing Clare's hand into a door. Her hand is broken throughout most of the rest of the film, the camera lingering on the slow recovery and pain she must be in. This is only the second most unnerving incident of violence in the film. The most is even more subtle. After having a simple conversation with her, Andi shoves Clare in the trunk of his car in a deeply blunt fashion. The violence in “Berlin Syndrome” is realistically savage, giving it even more impact.

The film's title brings Stockholm Syndrome to mind. There are certain points throughout the movie where you wonder if, maybe, Clare has successfully fallen under Andi's unhinged spell. After his father dies, she comforts him. During a Christmas celebration, she seems to actually enjoy his conversation. At one point, she willingly consents to wearing lingerie for him. The question one must ask is this: Is Clare becoming psychologically dependent on her captor? Or is she merely playing the long con, hoping to catch him with his guard down? It's good for a thriller to have that level of uncertainly, for the audience to be kept guessing until the final reveal.

What makes Andi's psychosis and Clare's dire predicament all the more upsetting is how genuinely steamy their initial pairing is. He's charming. When they first meet up, they have some pretty hot sex. They do it again the next morning. Shortland shows a previously unnoticed skill for eroticism, in these moments. Of course, that's what allows senselessly abusive men like Andi to get away with it for so long. They are charismatic, handsome, and likable. It's another example of how all of “Berlin Syndrome” functions as a metaphor for the entire idea of an abusive relationship. The film itself lures you in with the sexy sex, before revealing the horror that hides underneath.

Though it shows her moving towards a different genre, “Berlin Syndrome” definitely looks like a Cate Shortland movie. The handheld camera work isn't present as much as usual. However, the overcast and gritty colors are definitely present and accounted for. The film has a uniformly gray color palette. Save for the occasional burst of color from some Christmas lights, which happily recalls the more colorful moments from “Somersault.” Shortland also just can't let go of the slow motion. That appears during a montage of Clare photographing herself for Andi's amusement. It's good to know the filmmaker has kept some consistent qualities along the way.

For the majority of its run time, “Berlin Syndrome” is a two person show. Teresa Palmer plays Clare. She has a lot of heavy lifting to do as an actress here. Her character spends most of the film in an extreme emotional state. When she's not outwardly panicking, she's panicking internally too. At the same time, you can spy the gears turning inside, as she tries to find some way out of a seemingly impossible situation. Clare is a girl constantly breaking apart and then coming back together again, Palmer taking us through the steps every time they happen.

Max Riemelt is the other half of that two-hander, as Andi. Riemelt is very good at something that makes Andi an even more chilling character. Most of the time, he seems perfectly normal. When talking with his dad or teaching his class, there's nothing unsettling about his behavior. When he comes home to the apartment, with flowers for Clare, asking her if she likes pesto, you're not even sure if he knows what he's doing is wrong. All of this is before he reveals the depth of sociopathy, when he coldly considers killing Clare or sets a body on fire without even pausing. There's no mask of sanity and that's the creepiest part. Every awful thing Andi does is totally justified in his own mind. Riemelt portrays all of this fantastically.

If you're looking for Shortland's pet themes in “Berlin Syndrome,” you can see some of them. Andi's relationship with his father, and his even more implied relationship with his mother, follows the theme of parenthood that has run through all her movies. Yet there might be some headier themes in “Berlin Syndrome.” Berlin is obviously a city with a long history. The story of a person being held against their will, totally under control of a homicidal and psychotic madman, seems to present certain parallels with Berlin's fascist past. Some with a better understanding of Berlin's history and location might be able to speak to this stuff more. It went over my head a little bit, I'm thinking.

It's fair to say that “Berlin Syndrome” is my favorite of Cate Shortland's films, so far. I'd argue its her best film. It is a taunt execution of a creepy premise, that is full of deeper angles worth exploring. Both lead performers do a wonderful job, Palmer creating a heroine you can root for and Riemelt creating a very disturbing antagonist. Maybe the threads of melodrama that undid Shortland's previous films for me work better with the horror/thriller genre, where heightened emotions are expected and perfectly understandable. However you slice it, “Berlin Syndrome” is a deeply unnerving and effectively grim picture that will send the kind of shiver up your spine that lingers for quite a while. [Grade: B+]

Having watched all her movies now, I'm kind of surprised that Disney chose Cate Shortland to handle a big budget action-fest. Her previous four features aren't exactly commercial. They have almost no action sequences or special effects in them. Aside from having female protagonists and her last two movies being set in Eastern Europe, I don't really see any direct line between her previous films and “Black Widow.” Which, weirdly, makes me far more interested in what's to come. I'm genuinely intrigued how these indie sensibilities will adapt to blockbuster fare... Ya know, assuming the world ever settles down enough for superhero movies to get released again.

As for my opinion on Shortland overall, she's interesting. She's got some impulses I'm not a fan but others that draw me in. I'm not sure yet if she's a director I would've jived with otherwise, at least based on her first three films. Her career is still early enough that it's possible Shortland has a masterpiece in her. “Berlin Syndrome” is getting there. I suppose, for going in blind on this one, things turned out pretty well.

Director Report Card: Cate Shortland (2012)

3. Lore

If I had to guess, it would seem to me that Cate Shortland had already developed a respectable, critical following in her home country. “Somersault” was obviously very well received in Australia. However, the director hadn't quite made an impression on the global scene just yet. That would change with “Lore.” The film would be adapted from one of the three novellas published in Rachel Seiffert's book, “The Dark Room.” It would play multiple festivals all over the world, grabbing positive reviews everywhere it went. It would even be Australia's submission to the Academy Awards for Best Foreign Language Film, though it wouldn't receive a nomination. The film would put Shortland's name on the lips of many international critics.

It's 1944 and, in Germany, World War II is coming to a close. The Allies have captured Berlin and Adolf Hitler is dead. The Dressler family – father Vati a Nazi officer, mother Mutti a high society woman – live in a large home in the Black Forest. The parents are forced to leave, becoming prisoners-of-war. This leaves the children to fend for themselves. Oldest girl Hannelore must look after her five younger siblings, including the infant Peter. With few resources, they soon set off to find their grandmother's home in Hamburg. Crossing war torn Germany, Lore befriends a Jewish boy named Thomas. Forced to survive the harsh environment, Lore must confront her own identity.

The saying is well-known: In war, the history books are written by the victors. The cinematic version of World War II, the "Last Good War" for us Americans, has played out on-screen a thousand times. It's not often that a film forces us to consider the losers in this conflict, those who do not write the history books. In “Lore,” we see how German life was devastated by loosing the war. The cities are destroyed. The people are starving. The borders are chopped up by competing superpowers. The traditional rules of society are breaking down. An invading force, openly hostile to the natives, are rolling through the country. The citizens are innocent, caught in a conflict none of them have any control over. Just putting this perspective on screen is a bold decision.

However, there is an unavoidable factor to “Lore.” The filmmakers are in the unenviable position of trying to get us to sympathize with literal Nazis. Lore's father is a commanding officer in the Third Reich. Her mother was active in wartime social functions. Her little brothers are Hitler Youths. Lore herself has an antisemitic outburst late in the film. Many of the German people spotted throughout the film are already espousing the belief that the Holocaust is an American hoax. This is, of course, exactly the point. Throughout the story, Lore is forced to confront the idea that the life she knew – the perfect bubble she lived in, of Nazi high society – is a total lie. That the regime she believed in was built on racism and genocide. When she sees the photos of Holocaust victims, she is shocked and crestfallen. She cannot deny their reality. This is a valid idea to explore. Still, generating sympathy for Nazis is not a comfortable plot point.

The specifics of the conflict are obviously extremely important to “Lore.” Yet this is also a film that fits neatly into a genre often seen in arty, foreign language dramas: Miserablist tales about the horrors of war. Yes, “Lore” is not an easy watch. In order to survive, Lore and her siblings have to go through hell. They are frequently filthy. One unnerving episode has them staying with a clearly mentally unstable woman, who forces them to stand around in their underwear. Lore is forced to give away her mother's ring, her last prized possession. Most bitterly, one of the children is senselessly killed before our eyes. When watching films like this, I often can't help but grow a little numb. One can only take so much cinematic misery before tuning out.

One grim fact of war especially floats over the film. Harrelore's status as a young woman, physically budding and virginal, can't help but make her vulnerable. An air of sexual menace floats over most of the film. The siblings, early on, discover the corpse of a woman who was clearly assaulted. While trying to court favor with a fisherman, Lore nearly offers up her body. Thomas is introduced having rough, though apparently consensual, sex with a woman early on. Whenever Lore is alone with him, you fear for her. It's unavoidable fact that this is an unspeakably awful threat a girl in this situation must have faced every day.

Even with its bleak historical setting, “Lore” still has some things in common with Shortland's earlier movies. Like “Somersault,” this is a coming-of-age story. Harrelore definitely begins the story as a child. She loves her parents and think they are always right. She sees her younger siblings as burdens of sorts. By the story's end, all of this will change. She'll realize that authority figures can be wrong. That she has a special bond with her brothers and sisters. Though her relationship with Thomas is anything but typical, it is a young romance of sorts. She feels drawn to the boy in ways she doesn't entirely understand. Much like her debut, “Lore” is another Cate Shortland movie about a teenage girl in a serious state of transition.

Even though this is only her third feature, Shortland's visual trademarks are well established by now. “Lore” maintains the gritty style seen in her first two films. Once again, the film is shot in a partially handheld fashion, that emphasizes sometimes shaky camerawork. There's a lot of close-ups on the faces and bodies of her actors. All in the name of capturing a greater sense of grounded reality. Likewise, the color palette is largely gray and overcast. Which is befitting of a gloomy and dark tale like this, though I'm really starting to miss those burst of colors we saw in “Somersault.” Some of Shortland's less desirable visual quirks, such as a tendency to punctuate scenes with slow motion, also returns.

Another reoccurring element from “The Silence” that, perhaps, I could have done without is some more overly on-the-nose symbolism. As Harrelore discovers her family legacy is totally full of shit, she soon learns that other people around her are lying as well. This is a largely unnecessary plot twist that adds little to the film. (Though it reveals the title as a pun of sorts, “Lore” referring to both the main character and the myths we tell ourselves.) There's also the loaded visual symbolism of a porcelain deer she carries with her throughout the film. When reunited with her grandmother, she places the toy deer with a set of similar elk. Soon afterwards, she smashes all of them, rejecting the familial legacy she was expected to carry. Yeah, we get it. Thanks for ladling that on.

Here's something I haven't really mentioned yet. Even though “Lore” was directed by an Australian, produced by Australians, and co-written by a Brit, the film is entirely in German. This must have presented some interesting challenges for the cast and crew. Shortland, apparently, does not speak a word of German. I wonder how she communicated clearly with the cast? Either way, it is an interesting choice. It adds an appropriate level of verisimilitude to film, as that subconscious Hollywood question of “Why are the Germans speaking English?” never enters into the question.

The cast is uniformly strong. Saskia Rosendahl would only be making her second screen appearance here. Yet she gives an impressive performance. Rosendahl plays Harrelore as a girl doing everything she can to carry the sudden load on her shoulders. She frays under the pressure sometimes, physically shaking or tearing up. Yet she never admits defeat, charging onward in order to protect her younger siblings. Rosendahl shows all these complex feelings largely with her face, hinting at the interior strife without ever overdoing it. Her emotional outbursts are well-earned and cathartic.

The supporting cast is also well utilized. Kai Malina as Thomas does a good job of leaving the audience uncertain of his motivations. At times, he is effectively menacing. Other times, he seems sincere, even sweet. He successfully conveys the idea that the boy himself is uncertain of his own feelings. Ursina Lardi is quietly heartbreaking as the mother. She might be despondent over the death of Der Fuhrer, yet there's something undeniably human about the way she breaks down. Among the younger siblings, Nele Trebs as Liesel, the younger sister, makes the best impression. She carries a certain sardonic edge to her dialogue that makes her stand out among the other kids.

Ultimately, “Lore” is a movie I admire more than I like. Grim and serious motion pictures like this aren't really designed to be “liked” anyway. The film effectively makes its point, showing us the complex emotions the defeated side of a conflict must feel. Its young cast is very good, Rosendahl being especially impressive. It's a well constructed and shot film. Yet it's also not as deep or thoughtful as it postures to be. The film sometimes feels like a depressing slog. While there are certain things to admire about “Lore” – I won't deny that it's obviously a good film – I don't think it's one I'll be revisiting anytime soon. [Grade: B-]

Director Report Card: Cate Shortland (2006)

2. The Silence

When introducing Cate Shortland, I focused mostly on her short film. However, she has also done quite a bit of work in Australian television. She directed multiple episodes of the series “Bad Cop, Bad Cop” and “The Secret Life of Us.” (I don't know what either of those are.) After “Somersault” caused a stir in her home country, she was invited back to TV to direct “The Silence.” The murder mystery/cop thriller was originally aired in two parts over two nights. Over here in America, it was released as one two hour feature. It received somewhat mixed reviews. Most people don't even seem to consider it Shortland's second feature but I am more thorough than that, so here we are. 

Detective Richard Treloar was recently dismissed from the police force. After seeing a man murder a woman, he lost it and nearly beat the guy to death. Deeply affected by the event – and still harboring trauma from his parent-less childhood – Treloar has been sent to work in the Police Museum. There, he combs over old crime scene photographs for an exhibition. That is when he notices the same woman, carrying a birthday present and wearing a silky gown, in several photos... Including one where she's dead. He becomes obsessed with the cold case, tracking down forty-year-old leads to solve the murder. Soon enough, he discovers he is in danger.

I like to think otherwise but it seems the obsession with prime time cop/detective shows is not a uniquely American characteristic. Honestly, I think the whole world loves the format. Australia cop shows are, or at least where at one point, pretty well respected. If “The Silence” is any indication, they are quite a bit grittier than American programs. The film contains graphic violence in the crime scene photos, quite a bit of nudity, and more than a few four-letter words. Broadcast standard differences aside, “The Silence” proves to a mildly involving mystery. The story is easy-to-follow, with enough twist and turns to keep you guessing but never becoming convoluted. It draws you in, as you try to figure out how these story threads connect.

Yet it's apparent that “The Silence” is not setting out to be just an involving murder/mystery. The telefilm has higher aspirations to art. The script has several thematic threads strewn throughout. The least interesting of which, disappointingly, takes up the most time. Richard is clearly haunted by the woman he failed to rescued. We see the crime scene photos concerning that death early in the film. When he discovers the photos of the dead woman from the sixties, and becomes obsessed with solving the crime, the link is obvious. If he solves the murder from the past, he will symbolically be resolving the murder from his present. It's the sort of obvious, almost hacky, attempt to add depth to a story that you see a lot.

Similarly, “The Silence” places a great deal of emphasis on the power of photographs. Richard looks over the old crime scene photographs, obsessing over the tiniest details. Such as the presence of a matchbook or some cigarettes. For his birthday, Richard's girlfriend digs up the only photographs from his childhood as a gift.  It doesn't take the viewer a lot of time to start to see the link between one set of photos and the other. Thus, Richard's attempt to resolve this decades old murder becomes a chance to resolve the trauma of his own abandoned childhood. I wish “The Silence” touched upon the meaning of photographs more. Photographs are record of the past, which can be looked back on but never changed. It's sort of in the movie but not really.

A more interesting layer in “The Silence” concerns Richard's relationship with the women around him. As he becomes obsessed with the woman in the crime scene photos, he neglects his girlfriend. He verbally abuses his police-assigned psychotherapist. He barks orders at the assistant working him on the museum project, also a young woman.  Even though he knows nothing about the woman in photograph, he essentially falls in love with her, even having fantasies about her. In other words, he's more interested in literally two-dimensional women than real, flesh-and-blood ones. Within “The Silence,” there's a criticism of a certain type of shallow, toxic guy. He values the unidentified woman because he can project any feeling he wants on her. Instead of the actual women, who have thoughts and motivations of their own that he doesn't want to grapple with.

All of these interesting layers I'm talking about here, this is before a major plot twist that occurs over halfway through the film. At that point, “The Silence” almost totally falls apart. The connection between the protagonist and his object of obsession are made much more explicit. All the ambiguity is tossed out. The plot becomes far too neat and interconnected, in a way that strains credibility. The film then doesn't address the new, weird implications this plot twist brings up. It's really disappointing and a bad example of a style of screenwriting, where everything that happens in a story must relate to, build on, everything else in the story. Man, it's okay for stuff to just exist on its own sometimes. “The Silence” definitely fails in that regard.

Watching “The Silence” right after “Somersault,” you can see that Cate Shortland did not let the limitations of television hold back her visual sense. This is probably because “The Silence” has the same cinematographer, Robert Humphreys, as Shortland's debut. You see a definite continuity between the two films. Both have a gritty visual style, the camera work often being handheld. You don't see the same use of color that you saw in “Somersault.” There's a very brief moment, where a character creeps around a darkened house, bathed in deep shadows, that I liked. Otherwise, “The Silence” has the same gray, washed-out, “naturalistic” aesthetic you associate with gritty cop shows. Apparently that is true all over the world.

Still, you can see some of the same directorial instincts navigating both films. Even some of the odder, tackier elements from “Somersault” are maintained here. Such as a melodramatic fade-to-white. Or a moment where a character falls to the ground, their image ghosting through the air for a second. Even if this was likely a work-for-hire gig for Shortland, you do see some of the same themes being carried over from “Somersault.” Both movies have fractured protagonists ultimately in search of self-forgiveness as much as anything else. The interest in the relationship between parents and their children continues here as well. Though I'm only two films into her career, it's clear that there is such a thing as “the Cate Shortland aesthetic” emerging.

“The Silence” is a lead role for Richard Roxburgh. Here in the states, Roxburgh is best known for his extremely hammy turns as goofy villains in big budget studio fare, like “Moulin Rouge!,” “Van Helsing,” or “League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.” I have no idea how well known he is in his native Australian but it seems his breakout role was in an earlier TV movie about cops. Roxburgh definitely shows more range here than I'm use to from him. He's good at letting heavy emotions bubble just under the surface, always on the verge of boiling over. He is, indeed, playing a man on the edge. Roxburgh gets at the deeper, complicated feelings of the character without overdoing it. It's a solid performance.

Another reason I wanted to check out “The Silence” is because it also features Essie Davis. Like a lot of genre fans, I was blown away by Davis' performance in “The Babadook,” so it was exciting to see her in something else. Here, she plays Juliet, Richard's shrink. Even though Davis is also Australian, the character is from Ireland. This causes the actress to affect a heavy, sometimes difficult-to-decipher accent. Despite that, Davis still gives an empathetic performance. She even manages to bring some mild humor to the part, in a scene where she complains about her loud neighbors. Though I'm mildly baffled by the movie's decision to play Juliet's relationship with Richard as romantic...

There's a number of talented women in “The Silence's” supporting cast. Emily Barclay plays Evelyn, Richard's put-upon assistant. Barclay has good chemistry with Roxburgh and it's amusing watching the gruff cop and sarcastic younger woman play off each other. Alice McConnell plays Helen, Richard's neglected girlfriend. Even if that subplot proves hopelessly underdeveloped, McConnell still shows off an impressive range. Jennifer Hagan appears in the brief role of Olive, a retired madam of a brothel that Richard interviews on his quest for information. Hagan is amusingly snippy as a hardened old lady who doesn't take kindly to questions.

It does not seem “The Silence” made much of a splash in Australia. Though it was nominated for a few Australian Film Institute awards, in the television division, it did not win any. I think the film would probably be completely overlooked if not for its director. For whatever reason, the Weinstein Company distributed the movie on DVD here in America... But not before providing it with a hilariously misleading cover art. If you rented “The Silence” based on that artwork, you'll be disappointed to find it contains no gun fights or explosions. They even Photoshopped the actresses' faces onto bustier model's bodies. Hilarious. As for the movie itself, it begins as a mildly compelling character study and mystery, before sloppier narrative instincts cause it to end on a complete shrug. [Grade: C+]

Director Report Card: Cate Shortland (2004)

This one might be an adventure. Usually, when I do a Director's Report Card, I'm talking about a filmmaker I'm at least partially familiar with. With every one of these I've done before, I've seen at least one of their movies before.

This one will be different. I've never seen a Cate Shortland movie before. So why am I devoting an entire retrospective to her? You've probably notice I've been watching my way through the Marvel Cinematic Universe, in an incredibly convoluted and ass-backwards manner. Shortland was plucked out of relative obscurity by the Hollywood blockbuster machine to helm “Black Widow,” the delayed-on-account-of-the-apocalypse newest entry in the billion dollar franchise. Before that superhero flick is (eventually) released, I figured I'd take a look at Shortland's previous credits. They seem pretty interesting. I have no idea how this'll work out but here goes anyway.

1. Somersault

Everything I know about Cate Shortland, I've gleamed from her Wikipedia and IMDb pages but, here, let me attempt to summarize her early career anyway. After graduating from film school, she directed a handful of well received short films. Supposedly, several of these won some local awards. Of her shorts, one in particular seems to be relevant to her feature debut. “Joy” followed a teenage girl as she dealt with her daily life and dysfunctional family. Shortland would draw upon similar themes with “Somersault,” her debut feature and a breakout movie for the director.

Heidi is a somewhat socially awkward sixteen year old girl living in a suburb outside Canberra. One aimless day, she attempts to seduce her mom's boyfriend for no reason she can understand. After being caught and having an argument, she runs away from home. She drifts around for a few nights before arriving in tourist town Jindabyne. As winter arrives, she manages to find a room in a hotel and gets a job in a gas station. She catches the eye of a handsome young man named Joe, who seems to be questioning his own sexuality. Yet Heidi's desperate need for affection and approval soon leads her back into trouble.

Throughout “Somersault,” we see Heidi cut out images from magazines and save them in a scrapbook. Later, a key scene has her posing in front of a mirror. She pantomimes what she thinks a seduction looks like. These childish rituals point towards an important idea in the film: Heidi is basically a child. Though she is pushed out on her own and having these sexual adventures, she doesn’t understand how the world works at all. This makes “Somersault” an especially pointed coming-of-age story. This isn’t a story about a child transitioning into adulthood. This is a movie about a lost kid, trying her best to find some catharsis in a confusing world.

That “Somersault” is so upfront about Heidi’s sexual promiscuity also differentiates the film from the rest of the indie coming-of-age lot. Heidi often sleeps with guys right after meeting them. While trying to find a job, she makes an incredibly awkward attempt to seduce her potential hirer. The plot is motivated by her spontaneous choice to make a move on her mom’s boyfriend. Heidi has clearly learned one thing: She can use her sex appeal to get affection and attention. That seduction is the only area she has any power. That the visceral pleasures of sex can distract from the awkwardness she feels all the time. Shortland never judges her protagonist for these actions, presenting what Heidi does honestly without slut-shaming. “Somersault” intimately understands why a teen girl like Heidi seeks out sex the way she does.

Ultimately, “Somersault” is making a pretty clear point. Heidi makes mistakes the entire movie. She flees from them because the world offers her little forgiveness. She has internalized this lesson, never offering herself any forgiveness either. It’s only in the film’s closing minutes that she realizes, sometimes, a parent’s love can forgive anything. By asking her mom for forgiveness, what Heidi is really learning is to forgive herself. Without ever getting preachy about it, “Somersault” presents a clear lesson on the power of self-forgiveness and love.

“Somersault” wasn’t Abbie Cornish’s first performance, as she appeared in several movies and television shows before. Yet this was clearly the breakout role for the actress. With her blonde hair even brighter than usual, looking like a complete naïf in the woods, Cornish exposes herself physically and emotionally. She perfectly plays Heidi’s confusion and naivety. The small quiver in her voice, her body language, immediately puts you in the same emotional headspace as this character. She’s so convincing that you honestly forget you are watching a performer at all. It just seems like you are seeing a real teenage girl.

Cornish is not the only future star to breakout in “Somersault.” The film would also be an early appearance for Sam Worthington. Thanks to some truly wooden turns, playing forgettable protagonists in sci-fi flicks like “Avatar” and “Terminator Salvation,” Worthington does not have the best reputation as an actor. Yet the evidence suggest it was really the scripts failing Worthington in those movies. For “Somersault,” he would win an Australian Film Institute Award, the country’s equivalent to the Oscars. Worthington is naturalistic as Joe. He shows the young man’s insecurities largely through facial expressions and body language. He’s certainly good, showing a depth as a performer and a certain leading man charm that his Hollywood career has largely underutilized.

However, Joe’s parts of the film are also the biggest issue with “Somersault.” The world around him, represented by his stoic father, demand men perform in a certain way. This conflicts with his own feelings, his changing sexuality and growing attachment to Heidi. This certainly connects with the film’s wider themes of parental dysfunction and self-forgiveness, especially in a moment when a drunk Joe confronts his dad. Yet any time “Somersault” pulls away from Heidi, the film goes off-balance. This is ultimately her story and the moments focusing on Joe feel like digressions. Especially the scenes devoted to his attraction to the gay renter in the house. Really, the story of a young man navigating his own sexuality in the isolated Australian countryside should’ve been its own movie.

Joe’s subplot points towards a larger issue “Somersault” encounters as it goes along. The film slowly veers towards full-on melodrama. As Heidi continues to screw up, the people she thought were her friends callously abandon her. That co-worker is especially mean. This culminate in an attempted threesome with two random guys she meets, both men being portrayed as cartoonishly obnoxious. The film’s miscalculated sense of drama peaks during an unintentionally hilarious moment where Heidi screams while spraying a hose at a window. These scenes capture the volatile teenage emotions of the film’s protagonist perhaps a little too well.

Visually, “Somersault” is very much of its time. The film appears to be shot digitally, with the slightly washed-out but smooth appearance that comes with it. That is combined with an often handheld style of shooting. This recalls roughly a hundred other indie dramas that were being made around the same time. Sure, it works for the movie. This is a small scale and grounded story, so the style is befitting. Yet I found the more visually expressive moments, when Cate Shortland really shows off her strengths as a director, more compelling. Such as a neon-tinged party Heidi attends or a moment when she sings a nursery rhyme and claps her hands.

One scene, in particular, is very well done and points towards the kind of movies Shortland would make in the future. After befriending a co-worker, Heidi spends some time at the girl’s home. There, she discovers that her new friend’s father is the shop owner she attempted to seduce earlier in the movie. He then drives the girl out into the country. The interaction that follows is extremely tense. The audience is uncertain of the man’s motivations, especially as he makes Heidi more and more uncomfortable. The cramped location, the interior of a truck, only adds to the moment’s grim tension. It’s a scene that suggests Shortland could make a strong thriller and it would seem she’d follow that instinct.

Because it’s an indie drama from the mid-2000s, “Somersault” also has an indie rock soundtrack. Australian band Decoder Ring provides most of the songs and score. As you might expect, the music is heavy on electronic ambiance, sparse instrumentation, and lots of whispery female vocals. This isn’t necessarily a mark against the music. It certainly fits the alienation and loneliness Heidi feels, especially in tracks like “Heidi’s Theme” and “More Than Scarlet.” Some of the songs, like the title track, are even rather pretty. “Rough Sex” has a harsher rock edge to it that I enjoy. This is a good example of a score that totally serves the film that I probably wouldn’t listen to on its own.

“Somersault” wouldn’t just win an Australian Film Institute Award for its leading man. In fact, the film would sweep the award show, becoming the first in the program’s history to win in all thirteen film-related categories. Pretty impressive for such a humble, low-budget production. Internationally, the film would not make as big a splash. It would win some positive reviews without being too noticed. That’s how it is, sometimes. Taken on its own, “Somersault” is a very good riff on the coming-of-age story, beautifully acted and compassionately written, that doesn’t entirely escape the pitfalls of the genre. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Debra Granik (2018)

4. Leave No Trace

This is how the narrative traditionally goes. Debra Granik would receive multiple Oscar nominations, considerable critical praise, and introduce Jennifer Lawrence to the world with “Winter’s Bone.” You would think a director should’ve been able to get any project they wanted made after that. Instead, Granik wouldn’t direct another movie for eight years. Was Hollywood’s noted sexism against women directors to blame? Or was it simply the precarious nature of independent film funding that kept such an acclaimed storyteller from moving forward in her career? People loved the idea of a fiercely independent artist being held back by an unfair system.

Of course, we now know this isn’t entirely true. Granik did make another movie during that period. Yet it’s clear that a made-for-television documentary was not the follow-up to “Winter’s Bone” most expected. It is also true that Granik developed several projects during the nearly decade long break that didn’t make it off the ground. (Including an adaptation of the novel, “Rule of the Bone,” the presumed conclusion to the osteo-trilogy. There was also an HBO pilot that didn't get picked up.) Instead, a different book adaptation — based on Peter Rock’s “My Abandonment” — would be the much-anticipated follow-up to actually make it in front of cameras and on movie screens. While “Leave No Trace” would not reach the same level of success as “Winter’s Bone,” it was similarly beloved by movie fans.

13-year-old girl Tom lives with her father, Iraq war veteran Will, in a heavily-forested national park in Portland, Oregon. The two have long since adapted to the transient life-style, living in peace. This changes when Tom is spotted by joggers. They are taken in by social services and, once it’s determined Tom isn’t in danger, the two are relocated to a traditional home. Tom adapts to this new life fairly quickly but Will continues to struggle to find peace. He soon sets off with his daughter again, into the wilderness, but Tom is starting to wonder if this is the life for her.

Though only her fourth feature, Debra Granik already has a very clear style. Which makes it easy for me to declare “Leave No Trace” the most Granik-y movie Granik could make. She continues to explore the same ideas. Given Will and Tom’s homeless lifestyle, the idea of poverty floats over the whole film. The bonds of family, and the conflicts there in, continue to inform the director’s plot. More specifically, Will has PTSD, the director returning to concepts explored in “Stray Dog.” Characters also take solace in animals, rabbits and a therapy dog playing minor roles in the story, which recalls Granik’s documentary and parts of “Winter’s Bone.” Least you think a theme is left out, a truck driver appears midway through, criticizing the way drugs have gripped rural America. “Leave No Trace” picks up, and continues to run with, all the threads that appeared through “Down to the Bone,” “Winter’s Bone,” and “Stray Dog.”

Yet, what most distinguish “Leave No Trace” from Granik’s previous films is its tone of quiet melancholy. “Down to the Bone” and “Stray Dog” were most about getting to know their subjects, while “Winter’s Bone” had touches of a thriller. The sense of loneliness, of isolation, of not belonging, that lurked within those films completely takes over here. There are long stretches of “Leave No Trace” with little to no dialogue. Silence, or the sounds of nature at the very least, dominates much of the film. It is peaceful, even if the thought that Will doesn’t fit in anywhere is never far from your mind. This changes once Will and Tom attempt to integrate into regular society. Simply through the way she presents her story, Granik gets the viewer to understand how Will feels.

While the “Bone” films focused on poor families trying to scrap by, “Leave No Trace” is about people who choose to be homeless. Granik is not glorifying poverty, like indie quirk-fests such as “Beasts of the Southern Wild.” She acknowledges the hardships of this life. Tom nearly gets frostbite in her toes, after her shoes fall apart while walking in the rain. Will breaks his ankle late in the story, an injury likely to hinder his mobility for the rest of his life after he refuses proper care. Yet there is something undeniably cozy about Tom and Will’s life. A scene devoted to them setting up an umbrella in the rain is cute. The peacefulness of their forest bound existence is undeniably appealing. While pointing out that this life isn’t for most people, “Leave No Trace” shows that this level of freedom, of being away from the constrictions of society, has its advantages.

“Leave No Trace” is also a touchingly sensitive depiction of post-traumatic stress syndrome. There’s no melodramatics to Will’s condition. The most drastic moment has him awakening from a nightmare in the middle of the night, Tom sweetly comforting him. Otherwise, Will’s PTSD is utterly subtle. The loud noises of his day job — working on a Christmas tree farm — bother him. A questionnaire he’s given at the child protection facility unsettles him. “Leave No Trace” barely even mentions the war. Instead, it shows PTSD as what it is: an ever-lingering condition that interrupts your day-to-day life and frequently prevents you from having a satisfying existence. It does all of that without any booming sound effects or flashy editing.

Ultimately, above everything else, “Leave No Trace” is a classical coming-of-age story about a daughter and a father growing apart. At story’s beginning, Tom is perfectly happy where she is. Once the two are “caught,” she repeatedly clarified that she was never harmed and wants to go back. However, once introduced to the comforts of modern life, Tom starts to change her mind. Once again, the film doesn’t rely upon theatrical emotions. Tom always loves her dad and Will, obviously, cares deeply about his daughter. Yet a lingering fear, that they are destined for different paths, soon enters their relationship. In many ways, “Leave No Trace’s” story of wilderness survival is a metaphor for the traditional struggles of growing up, of realizing what you want out of life and what your parents planned for you might be different.

Naked sentimentality is not something Debra Granik's films usually indulge in. They are much too gritty and grounded in reality for that. However, “Leave No Trace's” tear-jerking finale tugs at the heart strings in a totally effective way. As with most of the film, the emotions behind the scene are more felt than expressed. The brief words Tom uses – “I know you'd stay if you could” – ends up saying so much. It's a reversal of the dynamic seen in the film up to that point, of Will being the authority figure. In a totally earned move, a natural progression, daughter has outstripped father in maturity. It's a point conveyed with such grace and emotion.

Granik continues her ability to discover up-and-coming talent. Thomasin McKenzie plays Tom. It's an insightful performance. Much like Granik's previous heroines, Tom projects a steely determination. When social workers are trying to determine if she's being abused or not, the certainty with which she speaks her dialogue is truly impressive. McKenzie carries that strength with her throughout the film, even during her most vulnerable moments. We don't know yet if Thomasin McKenzie will be a movie star like Jennifer Lawrence or a character actress like Vera Farmiga, though she's already done pretty well for herself.

Ben Foster, as Will, is also very good. The character similarly keeps his emotions close to his chest. While Tom is merely processing the emotions of a girl, Will carries a lifetime of secret pain inside. Foster never overdoes it or makes the trauma Will is living with seem anything but natural. The conflict the character feels, his inability to cope with the pressures of daily life, are expressed through stern looks and downward gazes. Underplaying it like this not only serves the film's style better, it also gives us a more intimate understanding of Will's condition. It's another quality performance from the reliable actor.

Carrying on from her previous films, “Leave No Trace” also has a grounded visual approach. The camera work is none-too-flashy but simply observes the characters as they exist. Fans of the filmmaker should be use to this documentary-style approach of her's by now. What is truly stands out about “Leave No Trace” is its gorgeous Pacific Northwest setting. More than once, Granik just points her cameras as the beautiful green leaves and sprawling forest of the region. The end credits are a montage of the same forest. You get the impression the director just liked looking at the natural beauty of this setting. The audience doesn't mind either.

”Leave No Trace” wouldn't ascend to Academy Award recognition, the way “Winter's Bone” did. However, it does have the distinction of being the second-most reviewed film with a 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. The critical praise wasn't entirely unanimous. Peter Rock, author of the original novel, was annoyed that the film was so different from his book. (The book seems more narrative driven and is set in the nineties, in addition to having totally different character names and motivations.) For fans of the director, “Leave No Trace” continues to show Granik's particular interests and skills growing and evolving. It's another really damn good film, leaving the director four-for-four so far. [Grade: A-]

Debra Granik has a couple of projects in development. That “Rule of the Bone” adaptation – a story about a teenage boy working as a porter in Jamaica – is still being considered. Granik has also been attached to an adaptation of the non-fiction book “Nickel and Dimed,” about the poverty line in America, and a documentary about ex-cons trying to reintegrate in New York City. Needless to say, Granik continues to have a laser-focus on her interests and pet themes. Considering the deeply noncommercial nature of her movies, who knows if any of these will come to fruition? Either way, Granik's raw talent obviously makes me look forward to whatever she comes out with next.

Director Report Card: Debra Granik (2014)

3. Stray Dog

“Winter's Bone” was an unquestionable success, a small indie that rode critical praise to strong box office returns. It's not every year that such an understated production, without any major stars, manages to snag four Academy Award nominations. Despite the acclaim and the awards, it would seem Debra Granik would take a long break before her next feature. This was not exactly true. In 2014, Granik wold make her largely overlooked follow-up to her break-out film. “Stray Dog” is a documentary, the first feature length doc Granik has made thus far, that aired as part of PBS' well known Independent Lens series. It is still easily the director's most overlooked film.

The stray dog of the title is Ron Hall. Granik met Hall while making “Winter's Bone,” where she cast the burly looking man as an Ozark meth lab drug lord. She would soon befriend the man, becoming fascinated with his life story. Ron Hall is a Vietnam vet, part of a large motorcycle club that drives around the country, participating in various ceremonies to honor lost or missing soldiers. Ron is also truly in love with his new wife, Mexican immigrant Angel. He cares deeply for his family and friends. He has a soft spot for animals. Granik's cameras followed Hall for about a year, observing his life and challenges.

Ron Hall is certainly a fascinating figure worthy of the motion picture treatment. The first thing you'll notice is how deceiving his looks truly are. The image of a bearded, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested biker/veteran inevitably brings certain connotations to mind. Yet Ron doesn't carry the touch guy persona you'd expect from his outward appearance. If anything, it seems empathy is the emotion that guides him. He's constantly offering help to others, asking them how they are feeling. The big, burly guy is even kind of cute in his own way, when bonding with his wife or his many pets.

Which isn't to say that Hall doesn't have his troubles. Perhaps more than anything else, “Stray Dog” is a film about the spectre of PTSD. Ron is still haunted, will always be haunted, by his memories of the war. To his shrink, he admits he's never forgiven himself for the actions he committed, the mistakes he made, while overseas. Though we never see them, more than once, Ron describes waking up from horrific nightmares. While looking through old photos, he pauses and nearly breaks down in tears when mentioning a friend that never made it home. The trauma of what Ron saw and did in Vietnam lingers with him still and influences every aspect of his life.

Yet he finds a sense of solace in the community he feels with other former soldiers. “Stray Dog” is not an especially probing look at motorcycle culture. The only real insight we get into why this form of travel is so appealing to the men comes during a brief conversation Ron has with a Gulf War vet. He talks about how, after experiencing being shot at, that combination of excitement and fear, riding a bike is the only comparable sensation. Yet being among others that understand this feeling is healing for Ron. He helps another vet talk through his traumatizing memories of the war. He carries badges, given to him by complete strangers, to the Memorial in DC. While he is frank about the reason why these war happens, critical of the government, Ron Hall's participation in the veteran community is clearly more spiritual than posturing.

As focused as Granik's film is on Hall's history as a soldier, it's also a charmingly low-key love story. He has such an adorable relationship with his wife, Angel. He's learning Spanish for her, through an amusingly awkward computer program. He, meanwhile introduces her to American classics like pork gravy or chicken nuggets. The two are already acting like an old married couple. With the way she bickers at him, in a loving way, to take care of himself. The two emotionally support each other, in just the manner it is suppose to work. Watching the quiet ways these two show their love for one another is so sweet, so touching.

Through Ron, we also meet his extended family. We briefly meet his daughter, from his first marriage to a Korean woman, sharing the difference Ron observed in how American and foreign women treated military men. Just as you'd expect from a slightly cranky grandfather, Ron loves his granddaughter deeply while also providing constructive, maybe even thorny, advice for her life. Eventually, Angel returns from Mexico with her two adult sons. This addition to the family is not always easy, as Ron has his conflicts with the boy, but watching their ranks grow is genuinely rather sweet.

As a documentary, “Stray Dog” is also valuable for the way it captures tiny, real life events just as they happen. Ron and his buddies shoot the shit on the couch, reminiscence about the old days and the world as it is now. While sitting around the dinner table, they talk about dentures. Food is actually a big part of “Stray Dog,” showing how people come together and bond over the dinner table. Or how about another funny moment, when Angel's sons are confused by the meaning of the phrase “pussy,” which Ron has to then awkwardly clarify? This is what I like about these kind of personality documentations. They are good about putting tiny, impermanent moments down on film forever.

Perhaps the true display of Ron's inner tenderness is the affection he always shows towards animals. The man is surrounded by dogs at home, usually little ones. (Not the kind of breeds you associate with a burly biker.) Ron carries one such dog, a coughing pug/pom mutt named Gizmo,  around with him all over his home. He talks to his pets in a cutesy manner, happily letting them crawl all over him. One notable moment even has the mountain of a man carefully bottle-feeding a collection of kittens. Ron's love of animals speak to his character and is among his most endearing quirks.

“Stray Dog” is another Debra Granik movie that ends abruptly. It seems our time with Ron Hall, his friends, and family concludes just when Granik shut her camera off. The final scene is basically a non-sequitur. All that aside, “Stray Dog” is a touching and fascinating ninety minutes. You can see many of the director's themes floating in the background. But this is mostly a simple portrait of an interesting, lovable man and his life. There's lots of value in that too. You won't regret spending time with “Stray Dog.” In fact, you'll probably want to spend a little more time with him afterwards. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Debra Granik (2010)

2. Winter's Bone

“Down to the Bone” made an impression on the independent film circuit but it could hardly be called a breakthrough film. For her next feature, coming six years later, Debra Granik would adapt Daniel Woodrell's novel, “Winter's Bone.” The film would be a starring role for an unknown actress named Jennifer Lawrence. “Winter's Bone” would ride a wave of buzz from the festival circuit to mainstream critical praises. It would top a number of critic's lists at the end of 2010 and receive four Oscar nominations. Including one for Lawrence, who would go on to become one of the biggest movie stars of the last decade. But you already knew all of that. Looking back on it now, a decade later, what made “Winter's Bone” such a special movie?

Ree Dolly is the only person taking care of her family. Living in a ramshackle home deep in the Ozarks, she watches after her two younger siblings and her mentally ill mother. Her father has disappeared. Her dad was a meth cooker, part of a drug underground that dominates the entire rural area. Ree is informed that, unless her father appears at his court hearing, the home will be sold to the state. Ree sets out on a mission to locate her absent father, sending her into the local underworld and all the danger that entails. Yet she refuses to back down, until she gets the answers she needs and deserves.

A key scene in “Winter's Bone” has Ree teaching her younger siblings how to shoot a rifle. When her friend asks what's that for, she responds with simply “Survival.” Indeed, survival and family are the main themes of “Winter's Bone.” Ree has taken it upon herself to protect her little siblings and her mom. In the bleak winter of Missouri, holding onto their home is truly a matter of life or death. Her devotion to her family is tested by the extended members of her family, including her father's unstable brother and a series of drug-addled cousins. In “Winter's Bone,” the old question of how thick blood truly is, whether Ree can count on extended family members to help her protect her immediate family, is put forward. She is totally uncertain and the audience is too, totally left uncertain of where everyone's loyalties lie.

As interesting as these ideas and themes are, Jennifer Lawrence's titanic performance dominates discussion of “Winter's Bone.” Ree is an extraordinary character. Once it becomes clear that her family is in danger, she becomes an indomitable force. Every time a road block is thrown in her face, she powers forward. This quiet, steely toughness is unforgettable. Ree truly emerges as a heroine for our time, as powerful as she is empathetic. I've said some not-so-flattering things about the performances Jennifer Lawrence has given, after becoming America's Sweetheart. Often, I've found her either too shrill or phoning-it-in. In “Winter's Bone,” she fantastic, totally believable as a young woman who can not be stopped or swayed by anyone.

“Winter's Bone” is a natural evolution of the themes first present in “Down to the Bone.” And not just because they both have the word “bone” in the title. If Granik's feature debut hinted at the everyday poverty its characters inhabited, “Winter's Bone” moves this idea to the forefront. Ree and the Dolly kids live in a wood cabin, isolated in the Missouri woods. The building is falling apart. The family often has little food, their fridge being nearly empty. These are not atypical lodgings for the area. All the homes in “Winter's Bone” are in disrepair, looking even more stark amid the stony, cold landscapes. As sad as these affairs are, Ree will do anything to hold onto that home. This is what it's like under the poverty line. You've got nothing and you have to fight tooth and nail to keep nothing. “Winter's Bone” is a startling depiction of this life.

Another element connecting Granik's debut and her breakthrough feature is how it depicts the way drugs have fortified themselves into these impoverished communities. In the Ozarks of “Winter's Bone,” drugs are so common that nobody thinks of them as unusual. When “cooking” – operating a meth lab – is first referenced, Ree totally shrugs it off. In quick succession, she's offered weed, coke, and alcohol. Later on, her uncle casually sniffs some powder as if it's no big deal. The creation and sale of crank is the primary economy out there in the mountains. If “Down to the Bone” showed how drugs operate in a seemingly normal person's life, “Winter's Bone” shows how drugs can completely crippled an entire neighborhood.

While “Down to the Bone” was a naturalistic drama, “Winter's Bone” does see Debra Granik adapting her style to an identifiable stock genre plot. The film follows in the foot steps of noir. Like any countless number of hard-boiled detectives before her, Ree Dolly charges forward to resolve her goal. She follows various leads on the way to locating her father, tracking down clues. That includes several dead ends and false leads, such as the burnt-out ruins of an exploded meth lab. Like frequently happens in noir, Ree even gets the shit beat out of her by some tough customers. It's easy to imagine “Winter's Bone” being pitched as “a noir set in the world of Ozark meth-heads”

Yet, as was the case last time, Granik is not so interested in genre conventions or tropes. Instead, “Winter's Bone” grows increasingly grim and unnerving as it progresses. Ree is indomitable but the criminal underworld is no place for a teenager. A moment when she tracks down a crime boss, at the back of a cattle auction, is the signal that “Winter's Bone” is heading into even darker territory. An almost unbearably tense sequence has a nosy patrolman pulling over Ree and her uncle, an act of violence threatening to break loose. It peaks in the film's moonlit climax, across a shimmering lake, where an act of bodily mutilation resolves the story. “Winter's Bone” drags the viewer along, events getting darker and darker.

In “Down to the Bone,” Granik depicted Irene's sons bonding with a pet snake. It seems animals are emerging as a re-occurring theme in her work too. Animals are frequently in the background of “Winter's Bone.” A humble dog lives with the Dolly family and the kids bring home another stray early in the story. Ree has to give away the family's horse when money starts to get even tighter. Squirrels and deer appear as food. The film concludes with the introduction of some baby chickens. The link between the Dolly kids, which are in desperate need of Ree's protection and care, and these defenseless animals is clear. Humans and animals are all just trying to survive. And, sometimes, sacrifices have to be made.

Granik's visual sense as a filmmaker is evolving too. “Winter's Bone” is largely characterized by the same documentary-like intimacy that defined her debut. There are multiple scenes shot with gritty, handheld camera work. This certainly fits the stark, gloomy setting of the story. However, Granik also gets a little more stylish at times. A confrontation between Ree and her uncle in a car is drowned in deep shadows, increasing the sinister feeling of the scene. After getting beaten, and taking some painkillers, Ree has a black-and-white dream about a squirrel. That's the film's most arty moment, a dreamy and interesting note on a film otherwise rooted in realism.

Jennifer Lawrence's performance takes up the most room in 'Winter's Bone” but the film has a healthy supporting cast. John Hawkes was also nominated for an Oscar, for his role as Teardrop, Ree's unseemly uncle. Hawkes does a great job of portraying a morally ambiguous character, a frightening man who leaves the audience constantly uneasy. Yet Hawkes adds more complexity, not playing Teardrop as a simple villain but someone with complex motivations of his own. Dale Dickey is also notable as Merab, a hardened woman who equally goads and guides Ree on her journey.

Befitting her documentary style, Granik doesn't use a lot of music in this film or her previous one. However, “Winter's Bone” does have several notable musical moments. The film begins with an Ozark folk song, helping to establish the setting and feeling of the film. Later on, a birthday party features an enthusiastic song between background characters, another sonic burst of bluegrass to liven up the dark tone. In its final moments, a banjo is picked up. “Winter's Bone” seems to suggest that music can bring together divided people, connecting individuals with their culture and community. It's an interesting touch.

From the moment I first read about “Winter's Bone,” I thought it sounded pretty interesting. After seeing the film, it was clearly one of the best of the year. So I was pleased to see it gained multiple Oscar nominations. The film's legacy, at least as far as introducing Jennifer Lawrence to the wider public goes, is somewhat complicated. Yet, taken on its own, “Winter's Bone” still stands out as a beautifully acted and layered motion picture. An exciting and involving film, it creates an unforgettable world and delivers its powerful story with maximum impact. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Debra Granik (2004)

Debra Granik is a director that seemingly emerged out of nowhere. When “Winter's Bone” hit the indie circuit in 2009, the raves and awards rolling in quickly afterwards, it seemed to herald the arrival of an exciting new talent... Granik then seemed to vanish back into the mist, not returning until nearly a full decade later with “Leave No Trace.” As always, the true story is a little more complicated than that. Granik has made other films, before and between her indie darlings, and the reason for her capricious nature becomes self-evident once you do a little reading. Equally obvious is that Granik is an exciting talent, a director with keen insight into American life as it exist in the new century.

1. Down to the Bone

Debra Granik began her career making industrial films in Massachusetts, beginning a life-long interest in capturing the working class society with a documentary-like directness. After transferring to New York University, she began work on a thesis short film called “Snake Feed.” The film had two real life recovering drug addicts, Rick and Irene, playing loosely fictionalized versions of themselves as they struggle with employment and life near the poverty line. “Snake Feed” was well received enough to be accepted into the Sundance Lab. There, the short would be developed into a feature entitled “Down to the Bone.”

Irene Morrison is mom to two rambunctious boys, her husband rarely around to help out in any way. She works a tedious, demanding, and low paying job as a supermarket cashier. She's also a drug addict. When the others aren't looking, she snorts cocaine to keep herself going. After hitting rock bottom – using her son's birthday money to buy drugs – she checks into Narcotics Anonymous. While in rehab, she meets a nurse named Bob, himself a recovering heroin addict. The two quickly begin a love affair. Once outside of the program, Irene struggles with employment and sobriety... Especially because Bob is still using, quickly pulling her back into the drug-using lifestyle.

“Down to the Bone” is a matter-of-fact depiction of drug addiction. Irene, from a distance, seems to be a functioning adult. She goes to her job, takes care of her kids, and tries to pay her bills. Granik establishes Irene’s drug use in an effectively blunt way. While the kids are getting into their Halloween costumes, Irene slips into the bathroom to snort a little coke. Irene doesn’t look or act like most cinematic drug addicts. She still faces down humiliation, such as when she has to haggle with her dealer. But her addiction is depicted more as the side-effect of a demanding life. “Down to the Bone” is not a sensationalist film, instead seeking the realism of a world where a few lines or a bit of oxy is what keeps a person running.

It’s also an interesting film, structurally. “Down to the Bone” does not progress the way I expected. Instead of stretching out her days of desperation, Irene’s decision to go to rehab occurs early on in the film. Most addiction dramas would follow from there, focusing on the struggles Irene faces in rehab and the people she meets there. Instead, “Down to the Bone” is just getting started. For a very realistic fact — Irene can’t afford to be in rehab for very long — she is back in the world not too long after that. “Down to the Bone” begins where most stories like this end because Granik is most interested in the conflict an addict feels re-adapting to their lives without drugs.

This focus is most evident in the struggles Irene faces to stay sober. The film acknowledges the way drugs made her life easier. Her work performance is effected by going sober, as she can’t keep up her normal speed. Her kids stress her out more. No wonder she “slips up” throughout her journey to stay clean. Earlier, some friends dice up some powder and Irene has to excuse herself, clearly tempted. Her not-very-supportive husband, during a failed attempt to improve their sex lives, suggests snorting some lines. Irene impulsively goes along with it. Similarly, when Bob reveals some drugs during a hot and heavy make-out session, Irene goes along with it. Sobriety isn’t a straight path and fighting the way addiction has rewired your brain means there will be mistakes.

“Down to the Bone” is also the most unusual of love stories. It almost seems like a deliberate subversion of typical movie rules. (Not that genre classification interests Granik at all.) At first, Bob has all the answers. He’s a guiding light helping Irene out of the darkness of her addiction. He’s also funny, exciting, and sexy in a way her husband definitely is not. While Irene’s husband struggles to interest her in sex, Bob knows just how to excite her. All of that changes when, in another shockingly blunt moment, Irene walks in on Bob with a needle in his arm. Suddenly, she’s the one guiding both of them, she’s the one with the power in the relationship. It’s another example of the quiet but shotgun blast effective way Granik keeps the viewer on their toes.

What most struck me about “Down to the Bone,” even more than its realistic portrayal of addiction and sobriety, is its depiction of life near the poverty line. Irene has a home but it’s humble, at best. The neighborhood is depressed, partly rural and largely isolated. She struggles everyday just to pay the bills, often having to juggle what the family can and can’t afford this week. She does all of this on a cashier’s meager paycheck. After she does the right thing and tells her boss about her drug use — and gets fired for her honesty — she’s tossed from one odd job to another. (Including a semi-comedic gig as a house cleaner, that comes with its own challenges.) Bob, meanwhile, eventually resorts to selling part of his methadone to earn extra cash. This kind of life, of never having enough to save, of struggling just to break even, is one I recognize. It’s the life of my friends, of my parents, of me.

Another element that makes Irene’s quest towards sobriety more challenging is that she’s a parent. Her boys are good kids. They are sometimes rambunctious but seem fairly in tune with the struggles their parents face. Irene loves them both dearly. But that doesn’t mean it's easy. For his birthday, the one son really wants a pet snake. Irene has to tell him they can’t afford that, the specialized care such a pet requires. When she’s high, she relents and gets the boy his own slithery reptile. (Another example of the way drugs inform the decisions people make.) During another memorable moment, she looses her temper when the boys ask her to make breakfast. Being a parent is hard enough. Trying to manage two sons while also trying to beat a coke addiction seems impossible.

Even though this was only her first feature film, Debra Granik’s visual style as a director was already established. There's a grounded, documentary-like approach here that can only be described as “naturalistic.” The camera watches patiently as these characters go about their lives. Granik takes the time to soak up the details of these surroundings, strongly imparting the world these people live in. Her stylistic approaches shine through the most in the editing, in the way the film cuts between episodes in Irene’s life suddenly. That’s what life is like sometimes, a series of unimportant things happening from day-to-day. The approach is extremely effective at creating a clear sense of reality and a deep feeling of empathy in the viewer.

Before “Down to the Bone,” Vera Farmiga had appeared in a number of films and television shows. This is the film that would truly be her breakthrough. And rightfully so. Farmiga is excellent as Irene. She conveys so much with just her face and body language. When giving in to her addiction, impulsively deciding to snort some coke, you can see the internal sense of defeat and relief, how she feels like a failure for giving in but also can't help but feel better for feeding the beast. Farmiga displays a rawness, when crying during her moment of clarity, but also a stronger side. Irene is a fighter, even when shackled by her addiction, and Farmiga makes that attitude more than clear. The talented actress even brings a degree of humor to the part, such as when she notes how much cleaning supplies smell like her drug of choice.

Though this is clearly Farmiga's show, the supporting cast is strong too. Hugh Dillion hits all the right notes as Bob. He's initially extremely charming, the character presented to the audience the same Irene sees him. And just as the illusion starts to fall apart for her, so it goes for us as well. Dillion is very good at embodying both sides of this character, a handsome guy who is also a scummy junkie. Clint Jordan, as Irene's husband Steve, does an equally good job of playing a seemingly clueless man... Who still pulls through and does the right thing to protect his kids. Caridad De La Luz plays the closest friend Irene makes in rehab and her observation during their cleaning job together are pretty amusing.

Granik's naturalistic instincts largely work perfectly for her. Except in one regard. “Down to the Bone” has a very abrupt ending. Irene tells Bob to leave, that she can't have an addict in her life while she's trying to get clean. He does so and then the film cuts to black. On one hand, I want to admire the balls of that. The movie is about their relationship. The relationship ends. So does the movie. Yet it does leave the viewer feeling a little blindsided. “Snake Feed,” the short that “Down to the Bone” is based on, extends a little further past this point. I wish the feature version had followed that lead.

Still, “Down to the Bone” is a stunning debut. It's a powerful work of empathy, showing the daily struggles of someone not to different from someone you probably know. The filmmaking and acting on display is fantastic. Granik brilliantly captures the reality of living in America today. The film wouldn't be ignored on the festival circuit, picking up a few awards for its star and director. It still feels like an overlooked film in Granik's career and deserves to be more wildly seen. [Grade: A-]