I shouldn't be surprised by the reaction to this film, in a time when indie films have to be brutally realistic, or feature decayed characters, or have scenery gnashing performances to make a mark. There can't just be chaotic, sweet little movies made about someone's ordinary life, someone's annoying, trashed, tender youth - if they don't make a profound statement about life.
But these little movies always seem to have startlingly true moments, stunningly real feelings. They're not throbbingly stylish or cinematic, so they let their characters come through, sometimes with painful honesty - Izzy manages to be a crashing fail, and at the same time, her experience of the pain of first, and long-lasting love is like a honeycomb crushed in a fist.
She's dirty, wild, funny, lazy - but look at how she folds down onto the bathroom floor and doesn't cry, but lets out this half scream, half moan as the person she's built so much of herself in has just walked away. Watch how she looks at her embittered sister who she used to be so close to, while they sing a song they put so much of their youth and essence into. There's love, there's fear, shame, longing - but there's still that dazzle of hope in her eyes. She's still young, and she hasn't been crushed into uniformity yet.
How can you not feel the truth of this? The fine line between hope and fantasy is a tightrope she walks the entire time. Is what she wants beautiful from afar, but up close, when it opens its mouth, is it just ridiculous? What is the fate she's going to make, if she decides to let go of the one she's been hitching her heart to half of her life? I wish I could've stayed with her longer to find out.
But these little movies always seem to have startlingly true moments, stunningly real feelings. They're not throbbingly stylish or cinematic, so they let their characters come through, sometimes with painful honesty - Izzy manages to be a crashing fail, and at the same time, her experience of the pain of first, and long-lasting love is like a honeycomb crushed in a fist.
She's dirty, wild, funny, lazy - but look at how she folds down onto the bathroom floor and doesn't cry, but lets out this half scream, half moan as the person she's built so much of herself in has just walked away. Watch how she looks at her embittered sister who she used to be so close to, while they sing a song they put so much of their youth and essence into. There's love, there's fear, shame, longing - but there's still that dazzle of hope in her eyes. She's still young, and she hasn't been crushed into uniformity yet.
How can you not feel the truth of this? The fine line between hope and fantasy is a tightrope she walks the entire time. Is what she wants beautiful from afar, but up close, when it opens its mouth, is it just ridiculous? What is the fate she's going to make, if she decides to let go of the one she's been hitching her heart to half of her life? I wish I could've stayed with her longer to find out.