It speaks of the stale critical climate of American cinema today that the winner of the 2010 Sundance Film Festival’s Grand Jury Prize is a small, grim movie set in a small, grim town tucked away in a remote corner of America. This is not to imply that the plight of America’s poor rural communities is unworthy of the filmmaker’s camera — rather, the problem is that Debra Granik’s “Winter’s Bone” (2010) is weighed down by an aesthetic that grows ever more tiresome as the art house scene continues to be dominated by the starkest of social realist cinema.
I don’t intend to attack the genre of social realism, but I object to its current straightjacketing into a universally dull aesthetic, of which “Winter’s Bone” is all too clichéd an example. Adapted from “country noir” author Daniel Woodrell’s 2006 novel of the same name, Granik’s film is set in an immensely troubled community in the Ozark Mountains in southern Missouri, where crack and crystal meth have decimated the spirits and finances of the town’s poor farmers.
The film follows 17-year old Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence), who cares for her two young siblings and her mentally ill mother instead of attending high school. Ree, admittedly, is a strong female character of honesty and unsentimental kindness without any of the pop culture-saturated ironic cleverness of a Juno or Rory Gilmore.
As we watch her washing her mother’s hair, quizzing her brother and sister on spelling and arithmetic and chopping firewood, we develop a deep respect for this quietly courageous girl. This is a young adult trapped by awful material circumstances, doing what she does not out of some sense of morality or self-righteousness but simply to protect the well-being of her family in a place where one’s own blood is often the only thing to rely on.
The plot is set into motion when the police come to the Dolly home to alert Ree that her drug-addicted father has put up their property for his bail bond after being arrested for an unspecified crime. He has disappeared, and unless he makes it to his court ruling in a week, the police will evict the Dolly family. Ree is thus forced to set out to find him. Here emerge elements of a noir detective tale as Ree’s quest leads her to cross paths with a range of unsavory characters, all at odds with the law in one way or another.
Despite the intriguing setup, the film’s efforts to build tension as Ree inches closer to the truth about her father are disappointing. The aesthetic Granik employs is too bleak and depressing — not to mention aggravatingly similar to countless other indie films — to incite any real interest.
Dickon Hinchliffe’s sparse score does nothing to alleviate the plodding pace of the film — the slow, overly dramatic banjo plucking only adding to its dull feel. The “realism” that a movie like “Winter’s Bone” offers is concocted, as it merely uses stylistic clichés that, due to their saturation of the art house scene, have come to symbolize “realism” to audiences.
The film is redeemed somewhat by excellent acting, particularly by Lawrence and John Hawkes, who plays Ree’s coke-addled uncle Teardrop. His personal conflict is perhaps the most interesting of the film, and fans of his work on HBO’s “Deadwood” may find his intense character worth the price of admission. Otherwise, “Winter’s Bone” is as dreary as its title.