After a week off, we’re back with a brand new episode of the Way Too Indiecast! This week, Bernard and CJ welcome director Josh Mond and star Christopher Abbott to talk about their new film, James White. The boys also discuss what is one of the most unpredictable awards seasons in memory and which movies they think will take home golden statues in a couple months time. Disney’s controversial decision to not screen Star Wars: The Force Awakens for critics is also a topic of conversation as your hosts cry foul and risk sounding like film critic elitists. All that, plus our Indie Picks of the Week, on this super-sized edition of the Indiecast!

Topics

• Indie Picks (3:40)
• Disney Snubs Critics (11:05)
• Awards Season Scramble (28:46)
• Josh Mond and Christopher Abbott on James White (1:15:36)

Articles Referenced

Arabian Nights: Volume 1 Review
Arlo and Julie Interview
James White Review

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In one of the most riveting lead performances of 2015, Christopher Abbott plays the emotionally adrift James White. He’s a twentysomething in the midst of a terrible family double-tragedy: his father’s just passed and his mother, Gail (Cynthia Nixon), has terminal cancer. It’s a chilly November morning in New York City and there’s a memorial for his father being held at his mom’s apartment where friends and family have gathered to mourn, but that’s not where James is. James is slumping through a raging club, drunk and delirious, pushing his way past sweaty young bodies in his stinky gray hoodie (which he seldom changes). He emerges from the den of excess, steps into sunlight and hops into a cab. When he finally arrives at the gathering, he meets the grieving guests with dark circles under his eyes, smelling of gym socks and booze. All he wants is for everyone to leave so that he can continue to bum on his mom’s couch and party every night. He’s an easy read: Scumbag. Slacker. Fuck-up. Freeloader.

James White, the moving directorial debut of Brooklyn filmmaker Josh Mond, doesn’t let you write James off so easily. In addition to being a total slob and a bully who’s more than happy to lay hands on any stranger who rubs him the wrong way, he’s an attentive caregiver, a loving son and a good friend. He’s only got one friend, Nick (Scott “Kid Cudi” Mescudi), but they’re tight; they back each other up in bar fights, and Nick’s happy to help take care of Gail at the drop of a hat. James can be a dick, but slowly we begin to understand his mental oddities and hangups. He unleashes his anger on people outside of his tiny inner circle because he’d never intentionally hurt the ones he loves. Does that make him a good guy? An asshole? He’s neither, existing in that complicated, dark, mysterious space in between. He’s a ticking time bomb, and as his story unfolds, we learn what makes him tick.

Sympathy for James blossoms as we get to know him, but melodrama and sentimentality are virtual non-factors in Mond’s storytelling. James White is a chillingly up-close-and-personal observation of a young man bubbling with so much emotion that he exists perpetually at the precipice of physical and psychological implosion. Dire, stressful situations like James’ are ugly and messy and horrible, so Mond doesn’t attempt to paint a pretty picture.

Still, glimmers of sweetness arise as we unpack James’ mental baggage. He’s got some serious (scary) anger issues, but being around his mother brings out his softer, compassionate side: When Gail’s admitted to the hospital following a frightful mental lapse, James gets frustrated that he can’t find her a bed amid the chaotic hospital traffic of busy doctors and nurses. In the name of her well being, he tries exercising patience. “All I’m trying to do is get her a bed,” he pleads with the bed manager. “She’s down there sitting in her own shit. I’m just trying to do anything I can do to help her.” The most powerful scene involves son helping mother from bedroom to bathroom, carrying her weight as she’s too sick to stand. Gail’s too exhausted to make it back to her bed and asks James to sit for a minute, burying her head in his chest. “Where do you want to be?” he asks her gently. “Paris,” she whispers.

Such subtle, penetrating character work is a hallmark of the film collective to which Mond belongs, Brooklyn’s Borderline Films. Mond and fellow filmmakers/best friends Sean Durkin and Antonio Campos were the guys behind Martha Marcy May Marlene and Simon Killer, and James White fits comfortably into the group’s catalogue of low-and-slow psychological dramas.

The Borderline fellows have also exhibited a keen eye for visual poetry and meaning, and Mond’s film may just be their crowning achievement in that regard. Cinematographer Mátyás Erdély employs the same clingy, close-proximity technique that made his work on Son of Saul so widely discussed and dissected in cinephile circles, almost never straying more than a foot from James side even as he rushes through swinging doors to escape uncomfortable interactions. Staying so tight on James never gives us an inch of breathing room should we feel the urge to shy away from his pain or the tension of the disaster he’s dealing with.

Given this perma-close-up technique pretty much defines the film visually, the pressure was on Abbott to turn in a breakthrough performance, and he obliged to astounding effect. The former Girls actor powers through the movie with the force and velocity of a cannonball, bringing a different color and energy to each scene. Without a doubt, Abbott proves he’s a world-class talent, and Nixon’s equally stunning performance takes James White to another level.

Starting off with one tragedy and ending with another, Josh Mond’s directorial debut James White continues to show why Borderline Films—a production company founded by Mond, Sean Durkin (Martha Marcy May Marlene) and Antonio Campos (Simon Killer)—is one of the most exciting things going on in the world of American indies right now. The film opens with its title character (Christopher Abbott, shedding anything that would associate him with his role on HBO’s Girls) going out clubbing before heading off to a memorial service for his recently deceased father. He still lives at home with his mother Gail (Cynthia Nixon), doesn’t have a job, and relies on his only friend (Scott Mescudi, aka Kid Cudi) to go bar hopping with him. James is the classic definition of a fuck-up from the looks of it: young, aimless, and with only a faint idea of what he wants to pursue. James attempts to get away from home by taking an extended vacation in Mexico, but it gets cut short once his mother calls saying her cancer has returned. James returns home, realizing that he has no choice but to get his life in order as he prepares for his mother’s death.

Watching James White can feel like diving straight into an open wound, and Mond (who based part of the film around his own personal experiences) makes every moment feel as raw and visceral as possible. Working with cinematographer Matyas Erdely (who also worked on Miss Bala and Son of Saul), the camera constantly gets as close as possible to its characters, lending an immediacy to the proceedings that make it both gut-wrenching and hard to look away. And the cast works together beautifully, with Abbott and Nixon giving two of the year’s strongest performances. It may be hard to find an exact point or statement to Mond’s film, but the fact that it so quickly jumps in and out of its main character’s life is what makes its drama so impactful. It gives a very brief, specific glimpse of a situation touching on the universal experience of loss, and through it delivers an incredibly strong drama.

In recent years, the production company Borderline Films have quickly established a new crop of indie talent. Two of the company’s founding members, Sean Durkin and Antonio Campos, have respectively made Martha Marcy May Marlene and Simon Killer, two truly distinctive Indies to come out of America this decade. And while director Mona Fastvold is Norwegian, her film The Sleepwalker feels directly inspired by Borderline, or just Martha Marcy May Marlene. The Sleepwalker has plenty of traits in common with Durkin’s film: a similar plot, precise cinematography, the Haneke-inspired chilly remove, and that feeling of something oh so wrong lurking underneath the surface. The connection becomes explicit through the involvement of regular Borderline collaborator Brady Corbet, who co-wrote the screenplay with Fastvold. Unfortunately The Sleepwalker is nothing more than a tone-deaf attempt at the kind of psychological drama its predecessors did so well.

The story centers around two estranged sisters, Kaia (Gitte Witt) and Christine (Stephanie Ellis). Kaia and her boyfriend Andrew (Christopher Abbott) are renovating Kaia’s childhood home when they get a late night call from Christine. She’s unexpectedly shows up in town, hoping to stay for the night. Kaia picks her sister up, and it’s obvious the two haven’t heard from each other in a while; Kaia’s surprised to learn Christine is engaged and pregnant, and Kaia mentions that she won’t forgive her sister for what happened between them. The next day Christine’s fiancé Ira (Corbet) shows up, prompting Kaia to offer them to stay the night.

That invitation soon expands from one night to several, and with each night tensions rise considerably. An awkward dinner conversation reveals Kaia and Christine had a troubled upbringing with their deceased father, a successful architect responsible for designing the home they’re all staying in. Fastvold and Corbet’s screenplay never explains what exactly happened between the two sisters and their dad. An accident involving a fire is about as far as the film gets to explicitly revealing anything, leaving viewers to make their own conclusions based on the sometimes cryptic dialogue. Conflicting accounts from Kaia and Christine on their father also help muddy the waters.

This kind of psychological drama is all too familiar. Implications of physical and sexual abuse inevitably come up, and hints of a sexual attraction between Ira and Kaia tries to generate some underlying tension to the proceedings. Fastvold’s idea of creating mystery amounts to watching characters behave in bizarre or erratic ways, leaving room to theorize what past traumas could cause someone to act in such a way. In the right hands this kind of guessing game can work, like in Durkin’s film. The Sleepwalker fails at this for two reasons; its central mystery isn’t that compelling, and the four central characters are too broadly drawn to want to invest anything into them.

Surprisingly, for a film centered on its two female characters, it’s the men who turn out to be more compelling. Abbott, whose full beard and fake accent go directly against type from his role on HBO’s Girls, makes his character an intimidating force. He can barely hide his anger at Ira & Christine’s presence, as well as Ira’s apparent wealth (unfortunately this is the beginning and end of the film exploring class tensions between the two couples), making his presence add a slight amount of unease to some scenes. And Corbet provides one of the only truly intriguing parts of the film with his role. He comes across as an outsider trying to get a feel for the situation, making his motivations hard to pin down. Both actors add nuance to their parts that simply aren’t there on the page. Fastvold, on the other hand, certainly knows how to get the most of out the house’s isolated location (Zack Galler’s cinematography has plenty of style to spare), but ultimately creates a film that fails to engage.

Ten years after premiering Love Liza at the Sundance Film Festival, Todd Louiso returns to the festival with his latest film, Hello I Must Be Going. The synopsis of the film fits right in line with what the festival welcomes; a tale of a mid-thirties woman who is at rock bottom trying to find herself in life. Unfortunately the title of the film speaks for itself, because the film offers little redeeming value, it could be can be abandoned at the opening introduction.

Following a divorce that left her without many possessions, Amy (Melanie Lynskey) has been living with her well-off parents in their extravagant Connecticut home for the past three months. There is no doubt that Amy is heartbroken over her failed marriage, she rarely gets out of the house. Amy is in her mid-thirties and has two graduate degrees, but has not had the opportunity to use either of them yet. But her lack of ambition might come from the fact that her parents are willing to support her, giving her plenty of time yet little incentive to find work on her own.

Her parents Ruth (Blythe Danner) and Stan Minsky (John Rubinstein) have their own economic dilemma when shares of their investments are lost due to the financial crash. The problem is that it is hard to empathize for them too greatly because this just means that her father is unable to retire sooner and her mother’s plan to travel the world is delayed. They are far from struggling financially, but having to support their hapless daughter makes the potential client they are trying to get business from all that important.

Amy is pressured to clean up her image for the dinner party they are hosting for the big client as if she was a child. Furthermore, during the dinner her parents do most of the talking for her as they know she is incapable of impressing the guests herself. Meanwhile, across from her is the client’s 19 year-old son Jeremy (Christopher Abbott), who is getting the same treatment. The two instantly begin to flirt and before too long it escalades into a greater affair. This might be the exact thing Amy needs right now in her life, but it comes with the expense of possibly ruining her father’s chance at getting the client.

The biggest offender in Hello I Must Be Going is that the film never gives the audience a compelling reason to care for anything that transpires. The bulk of the film tends to be rich people complaining over spilled milk, while at the same time, they are so self-absorbed that they do not care about anyone else’s well-being. Yet somehow the audience is supposed to.

The other frequent wrongdoer is that the film explains what occurs rather than showing it. A good example of this is when Amy tells Jeremy that he taught her how to be loved. Other than being a genuinely nice guy who was not completely selfish, an admittedly rare feat in this film, there is nothing too out of the ordinary that we see Jeremy do for her. Because Amy is surrounded with people that give her no attention, when someone actually does, she somehow considers it a “lesson”.

That all being said, the root of all these problems likely stem from a poor script. At first it was difficult to discern if the blame should be put on Melanie Lynskey’s performance or simply the character she portrayed. But by the second act it was obvious that the blame could be placed her unbecoming character. Even the solid performance from Christopher Abbott was greatly reduced by the dreadful dialog from the script.

Hello I Must Be Going is a romantic comedy that yields little laughs and the romantic situations that arise feel downright contrived. The film does not deviate from a typical rom-com plotline, but even worse is that the film fails to properly execute its intentions. Rather than showing the lead character finding her path of self-discovery, the film must rely on you taking its word for it. If you were going to watch one indie rom-com from Sundance that centers on a thirtysomething divorcee, I suggest skipping this one in favor for Celeste and Jesse Forever.