WINTER'S BONE Review

Tucked way in the outback of the Ozarks, where the soundtrack consists of random rifle pops and the ceaseless barking of dogs, Debra Granik's bleak and sturdy film explores family, honour and (of all things) protocol amongst a criminal clan of hillbillies.  The poverty stricken setting, timeless to the point where it is unclear whether or not the film is a period piece except for a cell phone in the background and the cars driven by the police.  It is winter, but no snow has fallen, and two children bounce in the sparse woods on trampoline outside of a cluttered and ramshackle home.  Have you ever wondered why the old women in these places have such weathered and hard faces?  Well circumstance and trials faced by young Ree Dolly (played powerfully and willfully by Jennifer Lawrence), in her battered flannels and animal sweaters, certainly evokes a little of that journey towards haggardness.  

Seventeen year old Ree is caring for her catatonic mother and her two siblings both of which are under 10.  They practically have to beg the neighbors for food (although even then, there is the pride of not begging) so dire is their situation.  This is complicated when her recidivist father is caught cooking methamphetamine (a cottage industry in the hills which seems to have supplanted Moonshine in the 21st century) and posts bail as a lien on the family house.  Now that he has run and is missing, the law is coming to repossess the house and through the struggling family out to the elements.  Taking it upon herself, Ree becomes a bit of an investigator amongst the cousins and the extended family to find out how to get dead-beat dad back in custody so that the bondsman doesn't take the house.  While the film starts off flirting as becoming a 'hick-noir' as she moves amongst various circles of her extended family tree, folks that has little interest in talking to her or helping her out (quite the opposite, she is just as likely to be shot or assaulted, presumably for transgressions by her father).  At one point one the wife of big old hoss, (name:  "Thump")  says, "Don't you have any menfolk to do this?"  Straightening her back (and her resolve), the answer is simple and to the point, "No."  Ree is clearly breaching the unwritten rules of the wide and far-reaching Dolly family, scattered amongst barns and cabins in the hills, but there is little choice with her back against the wall.   But Winter's Bone, despite the appearance of a banjo, children practicing with guns, and a graphic meal preparation involving the gutting and cooking of squirrels, never feels like it is playing to cliche or type.  It feels both heightened dramatically and also with vérité (the very unobtrusive, almost non-existent traditional soundtrack and the on location photography underscore a sense of authenticity).  At one point, Ree looks to sign up with the Army - not so much to avoid her overwhelming responsibilities at home, but rather for the 40 thousand dollars in enlistment stipend which would help with the financial situation - and the scene with the recruitment officer more or less talking her out of that road plays so convincingly real, that I'd not be surprised if the actor did that for a living outside of this film.  The film is stylish by feels real.  A film like Wendy and Lucy comes to mind, as does the early work of David Gordon Green.  But the focus here is family and clan and navigating a world that is both familiar (being a Dolly is the only existence Ree has known) and alien (she doesn't normally interact with the harder men and women in the further branches of the family tree.)  In a strange and surprising way, Winter's Bone feels a bit like a Samurai drama played from the female point of view.  

And then there is sort of a wild card in character actor John Hawkes, here playing Ree's uncle whose small facial tattoo gives him the name "Teardrop."  The only remaining man in her life is both tightly controlled, but always verging on losing it to craziness.  Hawkes, probably best known as the Jewish shopkeeper in HBOs Deadwood, recalls a younger Dennis Hopper (pre-Blue Velvet) and has a magnetic presence on screen.   Any thoughts of Ned Beatty's fate in Deliverance or other hillbilly stereotypes evaporate with his nuanced performance and the overall slow-burn marvel of the entire film.  The film clearly belongs to Jennifer Lawrence, an actress that will very much go places after her turn here, but everything in the film is firing on all cylinders.  It's not a happy film, it is indeed one of those grim regional Sundance films (in fact, this one took the top prize at the 2010 edition of that festival), but it is the best thing to emerge from Park City since Man on Wire.  And for once, this type of film ends on the exact perfect scene.  The struggling indie film scene for 2010 just got a bit brighter with this grimly hopeful film.