Wendy & Lucy (Kelly Reichardt, 2008): USA

Reviewed by Kevin Tran. Viewed at Plaza De Oro Theater in Santa Barbara, CA.

Perhaps the best film I didn’t see last year was  Wendy & Lucy , a subtle meditation of homelessness starring Michelle Williams and directed by Kelly Reichardt (who directed 2006 film, Old Joy, of the same flavor). The film, I can safely say, is not for all. Especially for those of you who have low tolerance for a slow moving plots. However, if you can hold your breath through the short 80 minute run-time, your exhale might be well worth it.

Wendy is making her way from Indiana to Alaska where she is hoping to find a job. Reichardt doesn’t give Wendy much exposition or goals other than this. Instead, she chronicles Wendy’s experience in a small Oregon town through which she is passing. When her car breaks down, things go from bad to worst as her beloved dog Lucy, her only  traveling companion, gets lost. On an incredibly meager budget, every little obstacle in Wendy’s way becomes a huge mountain to climb.

Williams, as the tomboyish Wendy, is dazzling to watch. With such little context in the plot to work with, she gives Wendy attitude and as well as grace. She is a beautiful character–one who prefers man’s best friend to a human one. She creates meaning in her life from an isolated world of nature and simple pleasure, not like the majority of us who fill it with busywork and entertainment.

She softly hums a melody as she throws Lucy a stick in a completely tranquil and stunning Oregon forest in one of the film’s opening sequences. The camera tracks her from a distance and follows her for several minutes. The two are totally submerged in a mixture of beautiful tree branches, grass, scattered sunlight, and the shadows of leaves. It is an environment that feels right. Any other setting feels unnatural.

Portland writer Jonathan Raymond co-wrote the screenplay with Reichardt, and the story is adapted from his story.  Though the story is about someone who is homeless and documents the real-life problems many face every day, the film never preaches. Wendy never once complains about living out of her car or cleaning herself in a dirty gas station bathroom, and so we never once pity her, but we do empathize with her. We connect on a human level to a part of American society that is rarely, if ever, seen on the big screen.


About this entry