The Fallout (2021)
(On Cable TV, January 2022) I was not expecting to appreciate The Fallout all that much, especially when it becomes obvious that the film is about the impact of a school shooting on a typical American teenager. The almost-exclusively American phenomenon of high school shootings would be, in any sane society, a sobering call to action and self-reflection about the many, many aspects of American culture that enable those aberrant phenomena—but the day America decided that it could live with Sandy Hooks was the day I gave up a good chunk of my optimism about American rationality. As a result, I very much dislike anything about high school shootings in movies, and find its use often exploitative and hypocritical. (I seem to be a minority here, though—I’ve now seen two films in three months that start with high school shootings, a cliché fast approaching black-protagonist-shot-down-while-reaching-for-his-cell-phone in cheap theatrics.) But The Fallout manages to get even reluctant audiences involved, as it charts in sensitive fashion the progressive breakdown of a shooting survivor who insists that she’s fine. Her actions betray her, however: drawing away from her parents, turning to hedonism as a substitute for meaning, engaging in riskier behaviour that would have been out of character before the shooting. It’s all rather well-executed, with a very effective ending that hints at an endless cycle of violence sparing no one. The Fallout remains a small-scale film intensely focused on character. Writer-director Megan Park manages an impressive directing debut, and Jenna Ortega delivers a good performance even under the scrutiny of nearly every single scene of the film. Shailene Woodley shows up in a two-scene supporting role as a likable therapist, but much of the film goes for lesser-known actors and a close-up approach. This is not my kind of film and even less my kind of topic, but I’m suitably impressed at how well it works even in trying circumstances.