A wide spectrum of American
filmmakers have, in the last year, embraced a radical brand of
emotional realism that borrows as much from European art films as it
does from America’s own classic melodramas. The trend emerged early in 2008 at the Sundance Film Festival and ran all the way through the year-end rush of award contenders and beyond.
In decades past, the story of a contentious family gathering or a
homeless woman on the road with her dog might’ve been shot through
gauzy filters and scored with strings, but Rachel Getting Married and
Wendy and Lucy, like a number of American films released in the past
year, have considered their characters with a style that’s stripped of
artifice. These filmmakers are telling their stories with handheld
cameras, natural light, and music that arises from the film’s locale,
not the soundtrack album. Each is marked by sweet belief and
unflinching honesty.
No one thing links this diverse body of
filmmakers—which includes Kelly Reichardt, Lance Hammer, Azazel Jacobs,
and sometimes even Darren Aronofsky and Jonathan Demme—besides a
harmonious aesthetic, but many of them cite the films of the Belgian
duo Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne as inspiration. “I’m a huge Dardenne
fan,” Aronofsky, director of The Wrestler, told me in Chicago. And at
Sundance, Ballast director Hammer said, “I’ve learned to be courageous
through them because, thankfully, they are so courageous. That’s the
debt I owe them.”
American filmmakers may have drawn ideas
from cinema’s favorite Belgians, but they’ve adapted the brothers’
spare, empathetic style to purely American landscapes: the wrestling
rings, strip clubs and supermarkets in The Wrestler, the Mississippi
delta in Ballast, the highways and parking lots of the Pacific
Northwest in Wendy and Lucy, and a multi-cultural New England wedding
in Rachel Getting Married.
In The New York Times, Manohla
Dargis called the earliest incarnation of this trend “the new American
realism,” but what’s remarkable is that these films build not only on
European austerity but also on homegrown melodrama. It might not be
foremost in your mind to invite classic Hollywood storytellers
like Howard Hawks and Douglas Sirk to your Dardenne party, but onscreen
the blend of grit and emotion feels entirely natural. We accept the
blaze of glory at the end of The Wrestler and the tearful
confrontations in Rachel Getting Married in part because of the
credibility established by the camera’s unfiltered gaze. And we accept
the idiosyncratic plots that lurch without obvious direction or sit
still longer than we expect them to because they’re committed to the
roads of their characters, wherever they may lead.
Anna Boden
and Ryan Fleck inadvertently helped launch this trend in 2006 with
their debut film, Half Nelson. In their second film, Sugar, they follow
a Dominican baseball player into the U.S. minor leagues, but they let
the movie drift with his wandering, broken heart. Their films, like
those of their peers, are about particular characters, but they’re also
about people who share our world, people we know. Really, they’re about
us, and, with any luck, these filmmakers will each have the opportunity
to make a dozen more gently searing portraits. We’ll look back at them
one day, and we’ll see how we lived.


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