Grace Dove

  • Monkey Beach (2020)

    Monkey Beach (2020)

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) We usually talk about movie formulas as being bad things, but an underappreciated aspect of their nature is that to have a formula, you need to have enough examples of something to distinguish the formula. When it comes to underrepresented kind of cinema, the emergence of a formula can be the sign of a healthy subgenre. So it is that, in between Monkey Beach and near-contemporary The Incredible 25th Year of Mitzi Bearclaw (and the inverse of Through Black Spruce), we have an emerging formula: The young indigenous woman leaving the big city to return to the reserve, where her supernatural powers help untangle family problems, sentimental complications and her own maturation. Monkey Beach has a bigger budget and a literary origin: It’s adapted from Eden Robinson’s well-received novel, can boast of some amazing cinematography and can anchor itself to Adam Beach as a marquee name. Grace Dove is quite good in the lead role, with special mention of Tina Lameman’s performance as guiding elder Ma-Ma-Oo. The BC landscapes are gorgeously portrayed, and director Loretta Todd gives the film a strong atmosphere. Unfortunately, the film struck me as more technically successful but not quite as interesting as The Incredible 25th Year of Mitzi Bearclaw: far more leaden in its messages, not as charmingly odd in its presentation and a bit too serious for its own good, Monkey Beach feels like the staider, po-faced cousin of Mitzi Bearclaw. This being said, I couldn’t be happier that there are no less than two movies poking at the same topic in their own way—First Nations cinema in Canada is still too rare, although I’ve seen no less than six such movies in the past six months now that the airwaves are free to present something other than Hollywood blockbusters during the pandemic void. I really would like to see a third and a fourth example of this “back to the reserve” formula: counter-intuitively, there are representativeness and strength in formula.

  • How it Ends (2018)

    How it Ends (2018)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2019) The post-apocalyptic road trip is a surprisingly long-lived tradition in American fiction (especially written), helped by the vast expanses of the continental United States highway system and a built-in dramatic device in motivating the trip across dangerous distances. At its best, How it Ends clearly exploits this tradition, heightening its drama with two lead characters united by a thin single thread and giving us a few disaster-filled thrills along the way. Despite the film’s modest budget and consequent limitations, director David M. Rosenthal throws in a few effective visuals here and there, and the growing suspense of knowing whether the bickering characters will achieve their goal (even on a quest more likely to be quixotic than reasonable) is familiar but effective. Forest Whitaker adds a lot of gravitas to the quest, while Theo James eventually develops into a likable character. Roughly two thirds of the way in How it Ends, I even started thinking that this was quite enjoyable in its chosen genre, despite several annoying flaws and dumb decisions along the way. The inclusion of a Native American character (Grace Dove, perhaps the best thing about the film) felt like a solid decision, the episodic structure of the film still felt fresh and the mystery of the catastrophe having struck America was still unfolding. Then the last act rolled in and the film nosedived. (There will be spoilers for the rest of this review because you can’t talk about what’s wrong with the film without digging into it.)  I wasn’t really expecting the film to offer a definitive explanation about its catastrophe—obviously inspired by The Road except far from being as meaningful, How it Ends just throws too many things on-screen to make sense and I would have been satisfied with a trite “Aliens!”—but this is the least of the film’s problems. Not only does it jettison a likable character two thirds of the way through, it introduces a new character fifteen minutes after the resolution of the main quest narrative and fifteen minutes before the actual end of the movie, effectively adding an extra act to a film that didn’t need one. It’s not a fun act either, darkly hinting at the protagonist’s fiancée having been seduced by a romantic rival and holy cats we didn’t need that stuff at that point in the film. This is the final touch that highlights all the nagging annoyances with the film—How it Ends overplays most of its cards and ends up satisfying no one with an open-ended ending.   In the tradition of movies that don’t stick their landing, it puts the rest of the film in question—the way society collapses within twenty-four hours after the Internet stops working and the government can’t be bothered to reassure the population. (Well, this may be the most realistic part of the movie—although I note that once more Canada is offered as an answer. The film was filmed in Winnipeg, something most clearly seen in a scene with a train sporting Canadian National livery.)  The lack of characterization becomes far more important once the post-apocalyptic quest is dismissed and we dive into character drama. I originally thought that something may have happened during the production of the film, but checking reviews of the original script (which was a Black List favourite for 2010) suggests that the flaws of the film were baked in from the beginning. How it Ends makes some elementary blunders for no clear reason, and shoots itself in the gut when a simpler, cleaner approach would have managed to keep things together.