One of the most important things a filmmaker can accomplish is that of creating a lasting identity for his or her cinematic work. Just as people have personalities and characteristics that show the world who they are as human beings, a skilled director will be able to give his or her film a distinct aura that separates it from the increasingly-overbearing barrage of topless hotties, monster truck explosions, and alien invasions that seem to flood summertime theaters every single year. Whether it’s the quirky comedic cuteness of films such as Juno or the intense fantastical atmosphere of something like Juliet of the Spirits, only the most self-established and envisioned films will be able to find their niche within your brain and implant their essences firmly in your memory.
But how exactly do we determine our perception of a film? Do we allow ourselves to become persuaded by the clever trailers we see on television, computers, and theater screens, constantly barraging us with ideas of how to identify a particular movie? If you’re anything like me, you undoubtedly assumed that Away We Go, director Sam Mendes’ brilliant foray into the quirk-centric-dramadey-with-Indie-flair genre (yes, it’s become a genre now, trust me), was just that…another film cashing in on the style of filmmaking popularized by films such as Juno or Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist…only this time with a subtle hint of astute comprehension at the hands of Mendes, already an accomplished crafter of dramatic tales of romantic angst.
When you get down to it, though, a film like Away We Go that prides itself in its trailers as being apart of the aforementioned subgenre is actually the victim of a major identity crisis; we may see a lighthearted, offbeat comedy aimed to please the teenage hipster crowd, but at the true heart and soul of Away We Go lies a beautifully layered film that balances genuine moments of lighthearted farce with heavy-hitting moments of spiritual invigoration.
The physical beings of the characters at the film’s focal point exist in the same way said characters’ spirits exist within themselves; in the middle of nowhere. We enter Verona (Maya Rudolph) and Burt’s (John Krasinski) lives just as they are entering a period of pre-midlife angst. Verona is six months pregnant and all seems well until a visit to Burt’s parent’s (Catherine O’Hara and Jeff Bridges) home sparks a self-fulfillment cross-country journey for the expecting couple, traveling from Phoenix to Montreal to find that perfect place to raise a family.
Now let’s stop here for a moment and address the characters of Burt and Verona themselves. The film almost invites the audience to feel superior to them in nearly every way…Verona is a struggling artist and Burt is a…well…”contractor” of sorts who doesn’t exactly work in an actual office…or even a building, for that matter. Their living conditions are modest but technically functional. Their daily lives consist of oral sex and broken furnaces. But their conversations reflect the minds of two very confused, naïve adults trying to convince themselves that they are ready for what will undoubtedly become the biggest challenge either one has ever faced. But while they may seem like they have no clue how to handle the situation that’s befallen them, we soon come to learn that there are far worse people out there than Burt and Verona…well, at least through their eyes.
The many stops along their continental journey include run-ins with old friends, family, and coworkers, many of whom are a few rungs below Burt and Verona on the intellectual ladder of life. Each encounter the pair experiences doesn’t necessarily provide a sense of comfort and solace, but rather a sense of superiority for both Burt and Verona, a sense of social superiority that feeds their intellect and sense of self-assurance rather than their sense of stability at this point in their lives.
We are introduced to one of Verona’s old bosses in Phoenix, Lily (played brilliantly and infectiously by the amazing Allison Janney), who runs her family like the good-looking, popular cheerleader raising a family band geeks. We’re also introduced to LN (hilariously played spot-on by Maggie Gyllenhaal), a new-age college professor who burns incense, runs a “continuum” home, and despises strollers because they promote parental disconnection. Both of these encounters provide Burt and Verona with glimpses into their future; are they going to end up parents who care more about themselves enough to force their ideals of physical beauty onto their children, or are they going to become overbearing modernist guardians surgically attached to their child’s hips? Regardless, the film’s inclusion of both Lily and LN’s families, in all honesty, feels like an intentional grab for laughs. And in part, it works in the sense that the majority of the film’s humor comes at both matriarch’s expenses. On the other hand, therein lies the only real problem with the screenplay; we spend far too much time feeling mentally elevated above the characters to care about their significance. The film almost becomes one-track in these moments, relying far too much on panning for laughs instead of delving into the effects each family’s behavior has on the spiritual journey Verona and Burt have embarked upon that brought them to these people in the first place.
But as the film moves on to its later stages, quick recoveries are made. The film’s hardest-hitting and most-meaningful dramatic moments come in the last quarter, when Burt and Verona reunite with college friends that have long-since crossed the very bridge the protagonists themselves are balancing on as they rekindle their connection. And it’s in these moments that the film’s strengths sprout, mainly indicated by the fact that it’s clear Vendela Vida and David Eggers’ screenplay hasn’t bitten off more than it can chew –also a two way street in a directorial sense – the writing isn’t that of an overbearing, angsty dramadey that’s weighted down with genre cliches, and Mendes’ direction ties the film together with a clear (and surprising) vision and deft handling of optimism that he’s shyed away from in his more recent works. Sure, Verona and Burt remain their quirky and unsure selves in the presence of their much more established friends in Montreal, but we get a real sense that the couple is learning, adapting, changing…becoming the people they need to be, regardless if it’s what they necessarily wanted out of life in the first place.
The strength of Mendes’ direction was a complete and utter shock to me. Coming off of such heavy material as Revolutionary Road did indeed call for a lighthearted frolic into another genre, and Mendes has not only succeeded at creating an interesting, polar-opposite companion film to his masterwork starring Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio, he’s also proven that he can step outside his genre and create something fresh and invigorating without having someone…well…die upon its conclusion. With his latest work, he has succeeded in giving not only his film a distinct identity that’s so vital to true, quality cinematic success, but has given himself a firmly-planted identity as one of the most talented directors of our generation.
And let’s not forget about the film’s cast, credit is due where credit is due. It’s so refreshing to see Maya Rudolph in a role that not only challenges our notions about her we’ve had since she first set foot on the SNL stage, but also allows her to tackle the role by leaps and bounds, proving that there is more to her than just expertly impersonating Donatella Versace. Rudolph somehow manages to bring a tangible sweetness and soft, inviting aura to her character that doesn’t inspire pity or sympathy, but rather a desire to watch and let Verona guide herself to her competence. Krasinski plays second fiddle to Rudolph’s greatness…and that’s not entirely his fault, as Burt is undoubtedly the lesser focus (but no less important entity) in the story. The supporting cast of the film deserves its fair share of praise as well, with Janney, O’Hara, Gyllenhaal, and Bridges delivering short but magical performances that almost shift scenes of narrative significance into scene-stealing focuses upon themselves.
But Away We Go’s true beauty lies within its undeniably bright spirit and optimistic demeanor. Of course the writing can be viewed as a bit scathing in its handling of the “lesser-minded” characters it presents towards the film’s first half, but as the script progresses, it’s clear that the film’s outlook and ideas become more progressive in nature, sort of like a child growing up and understanding responsiblity. It undoubtedly takes three states, two countries, and a lot of patience for Burt and Verona to finally come full-circle, but once they do, you’ll find they haven’t actually come full-circle at all. More like they found the center of their circle is a better way to describe it, amongst this hymn to the free spirit in all of us. Upon its conclusion, the film has stressed the importance of simply “living” rather than trying to compromise oneself in a situation where compromise is generally viewed as the key to success, but the film’s progressive views on life emphasizes the notion that a free spirit can exist within anyone who won’t allow themselves to be tied down, even in the face of an 8-pound, 4 ounce anchor attached to their stomach.
– Joey Nolfi
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