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-]