Disclaimer: I have a lot a respect for independent film; my roommate and I try to go to a little theater in Pasadena that only plays indie films once a month. There's an undeniable feeling that these stories have more heart behind them because they don't have a studio backing them, which means no guarantee people even see what they're pouring their soul into - that's impressive.
That being said, there are three tropes I notice every time I watch one of these movies and more often than not, they're simultaneously the best and worst parts of the whole experience.
1. People look real.
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| The Lifeguard |
I don't consider myself a particularly shallow person, but I think as a society, we've gotten
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| Shame |
used to watching beautiful people on screens. So when Kristen Bell is crying in front of you (and I mean real, heaving sobs - not one glistening tear) without makeup and in a tattered old sweatshirt, it can throw you off. She's gorgeous regardless, don't get me wrong, but it's more real and therefore harder to handle as a viewer. This could be said about any actor or actress in indie films; beauty is left behind while a more realistic vision is achieved. I love and hate this. I love it because it forces you to actually look at the pain (or the joy, though it's indie, so it's usually pain) straight on without getting distracted by perfect eyes or immaculate skin. I hate it for the same reason I love it. Why does their misery have to be so obvious that I can feel it? I spend a lot of time and energy trying to avoid emotions and now these idiots have me feeling everything they are, which is just unacceptable. And it's often emotions I'm not even familiar with. Michael Fassbender goes through a lot in Shame that I will never actually understand. All his sexual... shame (I can't come up with another word - they named that movie well) is something I'm never going to feel, but that doesn't stop me from sympathizing with his face. Independent filmmakers seem to go for that visceral aspect in every single shot. It's like they have all the time in the world to tear your heart open, and if they have to do so by making you stare at a real wound or a real fight or a real death - they will. So do as the actors do and forgo the makeup before you pop in one of these movies with people "just like you."
2. Moments of silence.
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| Darjeeling Limited |
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| Away We Go |
Again, I have mixed feelings about this. Part of me really enjoys the poignancy of the serious look and the great understanding passing between the director and the actors and then through the characters and the audience, but also... SPEAK. Darjeeling Limited is one of my favorite movies, and it's Wes Anderson so it's even weirder than most indie films, but the amount of time spent in silence is overwhelming. Now that I think about it, overwhelming might be the point. There's something about silence that can be deafening because you can't split your focus between what you can see and what you can hear. Your brain is forced to watch whatever is in front of you while the stillness takes over. Dialogue is your friend, guys, and I'm just not clever enough to understand everything I'm supposed to from this quiet. Give me context before I lose my mind trying to read into every intricacy of this moment. And then someone does. Someone speaks. At this point it almost doesn't matter what they say, I'm just so relieved that I can give them my attention so I'm not required to figure anything else out for myself. It's been a while since I've seen Away We Go but I remember the moments of silence more than I remember anyone speaking. The connection between Burt and Verona surpassed the need for words. It was a comfortable quiet and each time was different: sometimes angry, sometimes sad, sometimes content. Often more than that and all at once.
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| Little Miss Sunshine |
This is usually what indie films are going for right? They want to show real life? Even if it's a ridiculous plot line or a life you'd never lead, the story is used to portray something bigger than that. Like the pain of a heartbreak compared with the intensity of being in love. I had to watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind for a screenwriting class, and I remember my professor asking us if we understood the point. A few people mumbled something about how the story was cyclical and that memories are important, but these people had clearly never been in love. Not the kind of love this movie was talking about. Because only the real thing can kick your ass so hard that you wish it never happened just so it didn't have to feel this miserable. Eternal creates a world where it's actually possible to erase someone from your mind, which is obviously not an option for us, but that doesn't stop anyone from believing in a version of life where people would take advantage of this opportunity. This is both impressive and a bit annoying. It's like they trick you into feeling something you didn't even realize you were capable of feeling. I thought it was a movie about time travel with a quirky love story not a movie about facing your feelings head on before they inevitably catch up with you. Little Miss Sunshine did the same thing and masqueraded around like it was a silly comedy when it's really a family drama with a dry sense of humor. Sure, they take a lighter look at everything but the whole story revolves around people who are doing the best they can and loving their family in the only way they know how. The way they feel about each other represents the way you can only feel about family. It's a truly unconditional feeling of love that leaves you thinking both, "I want to smack you upside the head," and "Yes, I will do anything to make you happy." While I'm impressed with their ability to capture something so universal, I often don't want to experience everyday emotions. Give me a movie where people can fly and blow things up with their mind. I want my imagination to go to work so I can avoid the tissues.
And an honorary mention to this scene:
Which is in almost every indie movie ever - though the view may vary.
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