REVIEW: "Leave No Trace" Leaves An Aching But Worthwhile Mark

I first became aware of Debra Granik's latest directorial feature, Leave No Trace, while reading through an article a few months back about films that had premiered at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year. I didn't really become invested until I read a review about the film less than a week before I saw it. I was immediately struck by the central and profound father-daughter story set in the wilderness, as well as its transition to modern civilization and back again.

The story (based on the fictional 2009 novel, "My Abandonment," by Peter Rock) centers on a war veteran named Will (indie and blockbuster veteran Ben Foster), who struggles with PTSD, and who tries to maintain a way of life for himself and his 13-year-old daughter Tom (newcomer Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie) by living off the grid (illegally) on public park land.

From the opening scene, I was immediately moved and entranced by the relationship not only between these two characters, but also their relationship with nature--the only lifestyle Tom has apparently ever known. The way they get fires going. The plants they grow. The rare times they go into the nearest town for food and medicine. The way they practice emergency drills. The way they communicate with clicking sounds. Even the nightmares that Will has (possibly memories of his late wife, and the mother Tom never knew). And Michael McDonough's cinematography of the woods and nature in general is so beautifully done.

Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie

The majority of the emotions and character motivations come through dialogue-free moments. This is obviously a different genre than the equally-engrossing-though-more-frightening A Quiet Place. Yet, there is some intensity in Dickon Hinchliffe's otherwise-tender score and in the sound design, as Tom and Will are forced back into society by social services and recommended to live in an isolated home, but still in touch with nature. "A lot of people like to imagine living the way you two were living," one man tells them. Will and Tom may be by themselves in this setting, but they're not the same. Not from thereon, at least.

Foster and McKenzie are simply amazing. Their portrayal of a relationship that is tender and conflicting, with growing and quiet tension, is thoroughly believable and heartbreaking. (Some viewers may recall such films as Into the Wild and, maybe, Room, in terms of these dynamics.) Obviously, it becomes difficult for these characters (more so for Will) to adjust to a civilian lifestyle. Will's job, for one thing, includes cutting down Christmas trees, like watching nature being forced down around/along with him.

Based on the film's trailer, we think we know what will happen, but the second half of the story turns out to be as unpredictable as the characters' directions. "I don't think we knew where we were going," says Tom. They face different conditions, altitudes and subtle pressures. Other characters they come in contact with range from professional truck drivers to RV residents and landlords, an army medic, and even a beekeeper, who all mean well but make it hard for Will to adapt. (What's interesting how metaphorical beekeeping in terms of gaining the trust of potentially wild creatures in a large world.)

Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie and Ben Foster

The ultimate question viewers ask is, what are these characters (particularly Will) running from? Are they capable of social skills and not just intellectual ones? Foster has played soldiers before (in 2009's The Messenger and 2013's Lone Survivor), but, perhaps, never to this level of internal struggle.

Granik's previous feature, 2010's Winter's Bone, was a bleak tale set in the Ozarks of Missouri, where a seventeen-year-old girl (a then-unknown Jennifer Lawrence) searches for her missing father while trying to keep a roof over her family's home in the woods. Like that film, Granik has found a remarkable and amazing young actress to fill her lead female's shoes. McKenzie (a New Zealand native) shows real innocence and development in Tom, not just by how society has impacted her, but by experiencing a sense of community and belonging, whether with animals or people. She even becomes something of a mother figure to her father. The notion of growing up and letting your children go is nothing new to parent-children stories, but Granik's adapted screenplay (co-written by Anne Rosselini) uses its atmosphere and circumstances to make it fresh and even heartbreaking.

Quite simply, Leave No Trace is a tender and aching film. It's one of the best you'll see this year, hands down.

REVIEW: "Won't You Be My Neighbor?" and Fred Rogers' Legacy

If you were to put Theodore Geisel (Dr. Seuss), Charles Schultz, Walt Disney, and Fred Rogers in the same category of people who have entertained children and general audiences for generations, Fred Rogers arguably had the most positive and warm impact on them, on and off the screen. In this writer's humble opinion, he was the warmest man I've ever known through television. His pioneering series, "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood," was a special part of so many lives, including yours truly. It represented a safe place where children (the target audience) could visit and learn, along with characters like the puppet, Daniel the Tiger, and even see an expression of their own anxieties.

Morgan Neville's latest documentary, Won't You Be My Neighbor?, chronicles the life and legacy of Rogers, on and off the screen, from his native Pittsburgh to his background in child psychiatry to becoming an ordained minister in the Presbyterian Church to his choice of working through television, beginning at WQED in his native Pittburgh.

What we see or hear on the screen is part of who we become. ~Fred Rogers

He knew that children (including minorities and handicaps) would be influenced and affected by the ever-growing popularity of television, considering how cynical, crude and slapstick many of the shows at the time (and in years to come) were. He radically sought to use television as a means to influence children by helping them understand and grow through the world around them. "I knew there are things in this world I couldn't protect my child from," agrees one parental figure in the documentary.

The show may have been made for children, but it was anything but baby food. (Click here and here.) It's interesting that Neville opens this feature with a home movie of Rogers (also a musician) wondering if "modulation"--that is, the "different modulations of life"--was too complex to explain to children.

What I never really knew (let alone grasped) was how Rogers never shied away from sensitive or difficult topics, such as divorce, death, assassination, grief, and war. Talk about parallels between the real world and this "neighborhood." He remembered what it was like to be a child (e.g., using imagination through hard times) and he made relationships, on and off the screen, by just being himself. Other show performers, like Francois Clemmons (the neighborhood's African-American officer), never really considered the impact that Fred had not on the show until years later. (Clemmons later considered Rogers a father figure.)

I also never knew about the formation of the Public Broadcasting Service, started by President Lyndon B. Johnson but disapproved by succeeding President Richard Nixon. The famous 1969 Congressional hearing featured Rogers' testifying before Senator John Pastore to keep public television on the air.

And I never really considered Rogers' use of silence, compared with rapid-fire TV shows at the time and over the years ("There's a lot of space, but there's no wasted space"). Did I mention he was also a swimmer, and that he dedicated his life to maintaining the same weight of 143. (This became his signature number over the years.) He even tried adult programming for a time with the same philosophies, but eventually came back to the show, with weekly theme cards (a daring move).

His warm and kindly persona also made him an easy target for parody (remember Eddie Murphy's "Mister Robinson's Neighborhood" sketch from SNL?) and ridicule. And let's not forget the urban myths people have made over the years, including the one that claims he was a sniper in Vietnam, and that he wore cardigan sweaters to hide tattoos on his arms. (That's been debunked, as he never served in the army.) There were also claims he was a closeted homosexual, which has also been debunked, agrees Clemmons (who came out as gay in later years).

Rogers was even criticized by news reporters who thought his message was brainwashing children into thinking they could be anything they wanted. Many people were even reportedly "intolerant" towards his notion of tolerance. Rogers reportedly had a difficult childhood, being bullied and pressured to "feel less than you are". This was something else he channeled on his program, regarding the theme of feeling like a "mistake."

His ultimate message (not just as an ordained minister in the Presbyterian Church) was "love thy neighbor". In other words, a message of inclusiveness and an example of empathy and understanding that said, "I like you just as you are." The show's signature song, "Won't You Be My Neighbor," was once describes by Rogers as an "invitation" to know you are loved, and that you are lovable. It also extends to the importance of remembering those who have helped us in our own lives, and ultimately asking us, "What are you going to do?"

With so many stories of famous celebrities who have fallen from grace in recent months, it's a breath of fresh air to know that Fred Rogers (according to just about everybody who knew him personally) was exactly as you assumed he would be, and then some. Boy, do we need that kind of character and example, more than ever.

REVIEW: "Isle of Dogs"--A Bold, Original, and Daring Adventure

The opening scene in Wes Anderson's Isle of Dogs (which explains a long history of war between felines and canines) sets the stage for some truly original, rare, and daring filmmaking. This stop-motion animated feature (Anderson's second, after 2009's terrific Fantastic Mr. Fox) is set in a future Japan, where an outbreak of snout fever (er, dog flu) enables government officials to quarantine all canines to a remote trash island. "Whatever happened to man's best friend?" some wonder.

The film's apparent four-part narrative centers on a pack of five alpha dogs, including a stray named Chief, as well as a boy pilot named Atari (nephew to the unsympathetic mayor, who first issued the quarantine) out to find his own dog, named Spots, who was banished on the same island.

The film's marvelous animation and impeccable all-star voice cast (especially the dog leads) are the easiest things to be struck by here. Koyu Rankin (as Atari), Bryan Cranston (Chief), Edward Norton (Rex), Jeff Goldblum (Duke), Bill Murray (Boss), Bob Balaban (King), and other supporting players Scarlet Johannson (Nutmeg), F. Murray Abraham (Jupiter), Frances McDormand (Interpreter Nelson), Greta Gerwig (exchange student Tracy Walker), Tilda Swinton (Oracle), Harvey Keitel (Gondo), and Liev Schreiber (Spots) play this world like they mean it, despite its absurd, highly-quirky and intellectual disposition. The glass bottle fort scene, for one, recalls the underground mineral deposit from Fantastic Mr. Fox. Cranston's Chief proves the most layered character, developing as one who never really had a master to somebody with emotional tendencies (his main character trait: "I bite") to somebody who does have a soft spot. And Alexandre Desplat's score strikes the right balance of Japanese influences and quirky and emotional humor, with percussion adding specific intensity. (Pay attention to the opening credits, for starters.)

Perhaps the biggest themes in this film are those of choice and identity. Besides the arc of the dogs themselves ("There's no future on trash island," argues Rex, "I want my master"), the "why" for Atari is in how dogs represent true "best friends" in a harsh world. (The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band track, "I Won't Hurt You," adds to and sums up the films emotional arc, specifically this relationship between dogs and people who love them.) There are some characters who state their fear of bringing children (er, puppies) into the world. On the other hand, there are those who believe in a need for improved life, culture, and livelihood.

The film has been accused of cultural appropriation, as well as a stereotypical "white savior" element in the character of white female exchange student, Tracy Walker. Minor subplots involving dog flu and research (treatable or not) and robotic canines may pale in comparison to the more political subplot involving student animal rights groups shouting propaganda against pet-haters, including the fact that Japanese citizens have been brainwashed/misguided into hating their pets. --Is it possible that the film is also discreetly prejudice against cats? I don't know.

As for cultural appropriation? Maybe, maybe not. To be fair, the human characters do speak in their native tongue--mostly without subtitles, sometimes with an English translator--while all the canines speak English. (The disclaimer in the opening sequence is a humorous Anderson touch.) The ear pieces worn between certain humans and dogs (e.g., Atari and Spots) bridge the language barrier, and even result in teary eyes effects for the animators. In that regard, the film is, perhaps, reverent to Japanese culture, which also gives it an authenticity and charm rarely seen in cinema. (For the record, Anderson was inspired by the films of Akira Kirosawa and the classic Sixties and Seventies stop-motion Christmas specials from Rankin-Bass animation.)

It should be noted that, like Fox before it and despite the aforementioned marvelous animation and storytelling, Isle of Dogs is not really a film for young children. It's mildly disturbing and even violent at times (hence, why the MPAA gave it a PG-13 rating, "for thematic elements and some violent images"). One scene, for instance, glimpses a dog chewing another dog's ear off, while another scene shows a kidney transplant, open chests and all. There are also a couple of references to suicide and implied cannibal dogs, as well as an incinerator. At least, for what it's worth, the material doesn't cross into territory that Anderson's other inventive-but-R-rated films (and even his PG-13-rated Moonrise Kingdom) went into. And it gives more mature viewers the option of seeing what the animation medium is still capable of, as well as what original and daring filmmaking and storytelling is.