Pretty Good is Pretty Good! In Praise of the Non-Masterpiece: International Falls (2019, dir. Amber McGinnis, US) by Matt Olsen
Part Two of my attempt to ever so slightly relax myself from the hegemonic shackles of the Greatest of All Time film canon brings us to International Falls, a well-made, humanistic drama about the general dissatisfaction of life. In other words, it’s entirely relatable.
As last week’s film, A Perfect Getaway, made excellent use of its beautiful, lush, Hawaiian setting, International Falls does the same with the horizonless, white winter land of Northern Minnesota. The desolate cold of the bleak small town perfectly mirrors the emotional state of the film’s main character, Dee – a middle-aged wife and mother working the check-in desk at a hotel located next to the US/Canadian border and not much else. A temporary friendship with a cynical stand-up comedian ultimately leads Dee to refocus and potentially find a new path forward.
A film such as this, purposefully devoid of narrative gymnastics, must then find the pull in its characters, tone, and atmosphere. As referenced above, the strikingly vacant setting carries its own weight but the bulk of the film rests on the able shoulders of the simultaneously ubiquitous and underused actress, Rachael Harris. (She’s one of those people you’ve seen dozens of times unless you’ve never watched a movie or television show made in the last twenty years.) Typically cast in comedic supporting roles, Harris brings a solid, understated depth to the dramatic lead here much as she did in 2011’s similarly very good, Natural Selection.
Though she plays a largely depressed, motivationally numb person, just like in real life that’s not the entirety of any persona. Harris takes opportunities to push Dee into her outer edges and find moments that feel both true and unexpected. One scene that stands out has Harris’s character, Dee, flirting with the touring comedian, Tim, also well played by Rob Huebel. She’s clearly not quite as drunk as she’s indicating and her vague compliment, “you’re funny,” has more than a slight ring of emptiness to it. She’s playing cute and coy to extract some secret truth; the key that will open the door to the world in which she was meant to exist. The tragedy of the moment is, of course, that her target, Tim, is even more lost than her. It’s an excellently composed snapshot of a common reality.
Occasionally, some of the story and dialogue veer toward the obvious and perhaps the film lingers in melancholy more than is absolutely necessary but, in remembering the theme of this post, perfection is something a good film can be, but doesn’t require. International Falls is a thoughtful, quiet film. A lovely, sad, and full experience. That may not be the kind of athletically effusive rave posters demand but it’s both entirely accurate and deserved.
Matt Olsen is a largely unemployed part-time writer and even more part-time commercial actor living once again in Seattle after escaping from Los Angeles like Kurt Russell in that movie about the guy who escapes from Los Angeles.