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🎙️ EPISODE 307: 02.05.2021
The premise of Old Joy is not new. Old friends fighting to stay in touch, unsure why they drifted away in the first place, can't decide whether they're changing for the better or the worse or if they should keep trying to make their relationship work. It's simple on the surface. The simplicity echoes in the telling of the story, which is complex. But Kelly Reichardt can make complex ideas feel simple. Whereas River of Grass told the story of a poor, frustrated mother through the guise of a fantastical crime romp that's honestly anything but, Old Joy strips away all unneeded artifice: it's just these two guys, and the woods, and their feelings. |
Any absence of action or plotting is the viewer's fault. This is an emotional rollercoaster. This might not register with younger people, who look at Kurt (Will Oldham) and Mark (Daniel London) and think that'll never be them, not THEIR friends. (In truth, it didn't for me when I initially watched this is in my mid 20s.) The subtle changes in mood speak volumes and are substitutes for the years, and we get all this in just 76 minutes. Reichardt is a master of efficiency.
Old Joy is a sparse, meditative work, with a soundtrack by the band Yo La Tengo working as a bridge between the chirping insects and crackling water of the forest. Dialogue comes in bursts, often led by the more manic Mark–played to a T by Oldham, who feels at home inside this aging hippie wanderer–but there's a lot of silence between them; it at once feels comfortable, the wordless understanding of lifelong friends, and strained as if they don't really have much to talk about, much in common anymore. It's a weird and awkward crossroads.
The film is sprinkled with NPR playing from the car radio: it's cursed liberalism a prescient warning given the political climate of today. Not much has changed, but everything's different. The parallel lines go on forever even when they feel like a maze.
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