In Walker Payne, a period piece about a ne'er-do-well miner (Jason Patric) and his efforts to win back his two daughters from his bitter ex-wife (Drea de Matteo), the town itself isn't the only thing that's depressed. Through the sharp lens of director Matt Williams, the whole picture is a bleak tale--even at its most romantic--about men with limited means whose best just isn't ever good enough. By keeping the landscape and situations run-down, Williams manages to evokes sympathy for even the ex-wife (who is holding Walker's children hostage until he pays her child support or a lump sum of $5000 for her to walk away).
The stage is set for some Greek drama, for some heavy, heavy loss to go down, and the one failing of Williams is that he seems to shy away from the brutality of every shot. He struggles to find the upbeat in even the most bleak of scenes, and that lessens the raw emotion that he evokes by introducing the film's get rich quick plan: dog fighting. Despite all that Walker lacks, he's blessed with a faithful, lovable dog, one that happens to have pit-bull in him, and if he wants his children back, he'll have to gamble the life of his most innocent and loyal friend. Sam Shepard, who plays the huckster Cyrus, exudes sleaziness at every turn, and he's the one unlikeable character in the film (which also makes him quite impressive as an actor). Ultimately, it's Jason Patric's commanding performance as a haunted, desperate man that steals the film, but for some reason, villains are always more fun to watch.
The film's inevitable conclusion should come as no surprise, but it packs a sucker punch thanks to a neat little plot twist. Williams still shies away from how violent the film could have been (far from, say, Amores Perros), but for most American audiences, Walker Payne will be a welcome story of struggle, thoroughly sad and poignant.
--- Civic Duty
So it is possible for a bad director to mess up a good script. In Civic Duty, Jeff Renfroe manages to ruin good performances from Peter Krause and Khaled Abol Naga (as well as a fine appearance by West Winger Richard Schiff, more or less playing himself) and a decent (if not overly straightforward) script by Andrew Joiner. How does Renfroe pull off this magic act? A poor choice in original score, awful lighting design, and shaky camera work that doesn't fit the slick feel of the dialogue.
You could argue that Renfroe chooses the shakiness to depict Krause's increasing paranoia of his new Middle Eastern neighbor. You might say that the perpetual gloom of even the daylight outside is meant to shroud all the niceties in the darkness of suspicion. But these are technical arguments meant for a dissertation: in terms of enjoying the film, they make everything look blackwashed and given the film's already made-for-TV soundtrack, keeps the whole production very basic and redundant.
If there's suspense in the narrative--that is, if we're intrigued by Krause's unusual discoveries about his neighbor, or caught up in his meetings with a grumbly FBI agent (Schiff)--all that drama is worn away by more nagging questions, like "Why doesn't anybody turn on the lights around here? Why is it always raining? What kind of man, terrorist or otherwise, continues to provoke his neighbor?" These silly questions eclipse the more important issues of racial profiling and the American propensity for fear (and ultimately, the script's lackluster denouement seems to promote fear as our civic duty).
Civic Duty is a hot topic that grows colder every day, and the best thing for audiences everywhere might be if this film just gets iced for good.
Aaron is drowning in films!
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