by Douglas Messerli
Mark Thiedeman (screenwriter and director) Last Summer / 2013
By coincidence, I watched Mark Thiedeman’s directorial
debut, Last Summer of 2013, on the
very day I finished reading Arnold Wesker’s working-class drama Roots, and I was struck by their
similarities.
Like Wesker’s
play, Thiedeman’s movie deals with class differences—in this case not “social”
ones, but intellectual differences, which will surely later lead to social
ones. Two boys, Luke (Samuel Pettit) and Jonah (Sean Rose) have been close
friends since they were 4, and over the years have become gay lovers, a
relationship their Southern Arkansas community has seemed to have assimilated
as easily, as Hollywood Reporter Stephen
Farber describes it, as Native American communities embraced their gay shamans.
And, in this sense, Thiedeman’s film is not really a “gay film” as much as it
is a story about two people in love who must come to terms that they are not
really good for one another.
Director
Thiedeman represents their distress and fears not via dialogue or dramatic
interchanges as in Roots, but
primarily with aesthetically beautiful images, as if like Jonah, he were
playing the role of a Southern photographer similar to William Christenberry or
Walker Evans, his camera hovering over the boys’ entangled sneakers, the wood
of rotting buildings, rain-splashed panes of glass, worrisome lips, and fields
of long grass. And yes, this does have the feeling, at moments, of a Terrence
Malick film, but fortunately without Malick’s pretentiousness. Thiedeman seems
more interested in simple “artfulness” than in the grand sentiments and
spiritual awakenings of Malick’s works.
In fact, this
film, once it has expressed its simple premise, almost seems to lose interest
in its characters, as it shifts to the pastoral world which Jonah will soon
lose (as Luke puts it, “He’ll find other people who are much more interesting
than me; and they will love him.”) and to which Luke will be doomed. Some
people, as Luke once again perceives, feel so comfortable in once place they
can’t imagine leaving, and others feel trapped in the exact same environment.
Yet, like
Wesker’s Beatie, Luke knows he’s being left behind in a culture in which he
will have no significant future, just like his own parents and others who move
in and out of Thiedeman’s frame. If this world is paradise, it is a very boring
one, which challenges no one and in which very little happens.
Luke’s father
defines love, in part, as “forgiving someone for being different,” and this is
precisely what this young teenager does, refusing to ask Jonah, as Jonah
challenges him, to stay. Yet if Luke were to demand that Jonah not move on, it
would mean selfishness instead of the love he truly feels for his friend.
Early in the
film, Luke—who despite his intellectual inabilities, seems always to be the one
who best comprehends the emotional truths of this film—describes his intense
relationship with Jonah as being, metaphorically speaking, like a bird on the
back of a rhino. The bird, which helps the rhino to survive his daily
existence, must eventually fly away, while the larger beast remains to wallow
in the mud.
Thiedeman’s
film, like Wesker’s drama, is a minor one; but I’d argue it nonetheless has
more to say than hundreds of other grand love dramas. These two boys
demonstrate their love through permitting the inevitable differences of their
own beings. They sacrifice their love in order to give it as a gift in order to
let each other survive in their natural identities. And in that act, it is film
of incredible faith.
Los Angeles,
August 5, 2016 / Reprinted
from World Cinema Review (August
2016)
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