CPArts
Shooting Blanks Two new indie films opening this weekend stretch the nature their conceit razor thin. The King
Under the Tree
Directed by Hafsteinn Gunnar Sigurðsson
The King
Directed by Eugene Jarecki PerPetual twilight is the right look for Under the Tree. The family drama from Icelandic filmmaker Hafsteinn Gunnar Sigurðsson is set during the holiday months, when the sun always looks like it is about to set, and his characters are similarly stuck in a transitional period. There are two concurrent storylines: a disintegrating marriage and an escalating war between neighbors. The trouble is that Sigurðsson’s sense of plot and character is too obvious, when he should strive for something more inevitable. Under the Tree has comic moments and Sigurðsson clearly wants his film to serve as a metaphor for modern alienation, except it lands with all the power of a sitcom’s “special episode.” When we first meet Atli (Steinþór Hróar Steinþórsson), he cannot sleep because his neighbors are fucking too loudly. He decides to jerk off in the family room, and his wife Agnes (Lára Jóhanna Jónsdóttir) catches him in the act. Her confusion turns to outrage once she realizes that not only is Atli watching porn of himself, his partner in the video is his ex-girlfriend. She kicks him out, so Atli stays with his parents Baldvin (Sigurður Sigurjónsson) and Inga (Guðbjörg Edda Björgvinsdóttir) who have problems of their own: Their neighbor Eybjorg (Selma Björn-
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sdóttir) whines about a large tree obscuring the sun in the backyard. Hours of daylight are infrequent in Iceland, so their war of words gets nastier—even violent—once the neighbors resort to childish pranks and stealing. Under the Tree can be intriguing when we are still trying to figure out who these characters are. Inga is needlessly nasty, calling Eybjorg names like “cow,” while Atli debases himself so he can reconcile with Agnes. There are convenient reasons for all this behavior, and Sigurðsson’s script reveals them all within the film’s slim running time. Canny audiences will anticipate that these characters are still reeling from past trauma, and their bad behavior is just their version of lashing out. This is not a new line of storytelling; in fact, nearly every family drama since 1980’s Ordinary People has riffed on this idea. As the film wraps, presenting its themes in a neat bow, there is a gnawing feeling that there must be more than the obvious twists we see. There is not, so the story loses its power to shock and serve as allegory. Like many other recent European dramas, Sigurðsson strives to find comedy in discomfort. There is a scene where Atli goes to his daughter’s kindergarten, and the nervous child care worker in a man bun quietly emasculates him. There are several scenes where Inga makes of point of being passive-aggressive whenever her neighbors are in earshot. In the best examples of these European dramas, such as the recent comedy Force Majeure, that discomfort unearths nasty truths about tough targets like toxic masculinity or modern gender roles. Ironically, this film works best when it ditches the comic discomfort and lets its characters actually talk. There are a few heart-tohearts where Atli and the others let down their defenses, suggesting Under the Tree would be improved if it actually focused on reconciliation. Every comedy of manners, whether it is set in modern times or hundreds of years ago, focuses on how easy it is for civilized characters to become savage. Under the Tree takes that notion and makes it literal: in his desperation, Baldvin gets violent with Eybjorg’s husband Konrad (Þorsteinn Bachmann). While these two middle-aged men have all the trappings of affluence, there is nothing funny about their clumsy, protracted fight. Nor is there any surprise when the fight arrives: Sigurðsson seemingly does not believe in subtext, keeping his metaphors at the surface level. That kind of subtlety is perfect for a short film, or perhaps a
How the Smithsonian Folklife Festival resurrected a local women’s festival from the ’80s washingtoncitypaper.com/arts comedy sketch, but not a feature-length film that purports to be about “the way things are.” At every possibly turn, Under the Tree goes after, er, low-hanging fruit, and treats its facile revelations as if they are profound. —Alan Zilberman according to The King, America is Fat Elvis. Director Eugene Jarecki (The House I Live In) takes a weak metaphor and gyrates with it in this documentary, comparing the rise and fall of the King of Rock ’n’ Roll with the trajectory of our country. No matter how hard he tries to connect the dots, however, the analogy remains as stretched as Elvis’ late-career stage clothes. Throughout, Jarecki has actors and musicians ride in the back seat of Presley’s Rolls Royce as they opine or perform. They go to places such as Tupelo, Mississippi, (Presley’s birthplace) and Memphis (home of Stax Records), though the commentators largely stay in the car as the director explores. He talks to Presley’s neighbors, for example, and an Elvis impersonator who says that Elvis was “a champion for the working man.” There’s repeated emphasis on the idea of Presley starting out as a country boy and rocketing to fame, and how that sudden success led to him feeling trapped and unhappy. It’s all very scattershot, and as for what it has to do with the state of the U.S.—beyond an admittedly apt comparison to the so-called American Dream—your guess is as good as mine. At one point, Jarecki asks his road crew chief about his idea. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing with this movie,” he said. “I’m not sure you know what you’re doing.” Another interviewee says that having people ride in the Rolls was “a reach,” that Jarecki could have at least used one of Presley’s American-made Cadillacs. It’s odd that the director would undermine himself like this, but perhaps it’s a proactive mea culpa, his way of saying that if the film ends up being a mess, he did really try. As for the States’ side of the comparison, Jarecki gets a little shy about taking it all the way. There’s talk of the current economy, yes, but only flashes of Trump footage and dances around our political climate. Immortal Technique says that “if Elvis is your metaphor for America, we’re about to OD,” but only indirectly references 45. Though Jarecki filmed at least part of this pre-election: Alec Baldwin—why is Alec Baldwin here?— is the only one who mentions the president. “Trump is not going to win,” he says while in the Rolls. “Trump is not going to win.” How much better the doc would be if it had captured everyone’s opinions after the inauguration! Of course, music is also a component of The King, but there’s not nearly enough of it. We get only brief glimpses of Presley performances, with more time being devoted to footage of his Army days, clips from his movies (there’s lots of discussion about his movies), or audio of his interviews while we look at shots of ’Murica. At the very end, Jarecki really goes random: While Presley sings “Unchained Melody,” there’s a montage that includes KISS, O.J. Simpson, Monica Lewinsky, Barney, and footage of September 11, Hurricane Katrina, and the Women’s March. At one point, we get a close-up of what looks like a gold-and-glass toilet to punctuate discussion of Presley’s death. It’s in terrible taste, but at the same time fitting, suggesting that the result of Jarecki’s high concept is flushable. —Tricia Olszewski Under the Tree opens Friday at Landmark West End Cinema. The King opens Friday at Landmark E Street Cinema. washingtoncitypaper.com july 13, 2018 19