Nebraska | Little White Lies

Nebras­ka

13 Dec 2013 / Released: 13 Dec 2013

Words by David Jenkins

Directed by Alexander Payne

Starring Bruce Dern, June Squibb, and Will Forte

Greying man in profile, wearing jacket, with blurred figure behind him.
Greying man in profile, wearing jacket, with blurred figure behind him.
4

Anticipation.

A new Alexander Payne film is a big deal. One with Bruce Dern in the lead is essential.

3

Enjoyment.

A shaky start, but it blossoms beautifully.

4

In Retrospect.

A bigger, deeper film that it initially appears. Dern’s performance is a delight.

A bit­ter­sweet road movie about the joy and sad­ness of age­ing direct­ed by the great Alexan­der Payne.

Alexan­der Payne’s new movie shares its name with one of Bruce Springsteen’s great­est albums, and both share a prim­i­tive sen­si­bil­i­ty in which every­thing bar the essen­tial is pruned back to its roots. And just as the Boss’s four-track opus played out in the mind like some mono­chrome bor­der­town noir, so does this arrive in glow­ing, washed out black-and-white.

The deci­sion to film Nebras­ka in black and white is fit­ting — sym­bol­is­ing the two-tone sim­plic­i­ty of life in the Amer­i­can mid­west while also imbu­ing the peo­ple and land­scape with a myth­ic qual­i­ty. The film works as a com­pan­ion piece to his dole­ful Poly­ne­sian caper, The Descen­dants, in that both films fol­low mid­dle-aged men who have been touched by the pos­si­ble death of a close fam­i­ly mem­ber, and exam­ine their sub­se­quent efforts to insti­gate some kind of short-order Karmic realignment.

The film starts of slow­ly and, frankly, quite bad­ly. It’s not just the male melan­choly set-up which feels like Payne self-par­o­dy, but the per­for­mances are stilt­ed and affect­ed. Payne’s patent­ed dry humour, too, sel­dom hits home. Will Forte’s Dav­ey is a bespoke hi-fi sales­man who’s get­ting con­sis­tent­ly irked by his father’s mono­ma­ni­a­cal ten­den­cy to wan­der off down the high­way with the inten­tion of reach­ing Lin­coln, Nebras­ka in order to cash in a junk mail prize draw tick­et which he believes insures him the prince­ly sum of $1 mil­lion. Woody — beau­ti­ful­ly played by 70s indie Hol­ly­wood god­head Bruce Dern — won’t take no for an answer, and so Dav­ey decides to dri­ve him to Lin­coln so he can see the sham with his own eyes.

It’s when Dav­ey and Woody hit the road that the film begins to find its feet. And it’s when the pair reach the town of Hawthorne that the film begins to real­ly cook and beau­ti­ful­ly con­sol­i­date its del­i­cate themes. It’s a place where Woody spent much of his for­ma­tive life as the town mechan­ic and where many mem­bers of his extend­ed and semi-estranged fam­i­ly still reside. Think­ing that this black sheep is sit­ting on a for­tune, it’s not long before they’re call­ing in all those finan­cial favours from the past.

Though the film deals with Davey’s attempts to sate what may be one of his father’s final desires, the film is great when exam­in­ing the trag­ic sto­ries and failed rela­tion­ships that are sad­ly lost in the space between gen­er­a­tions. It may sound corny, but Davey’s belat­ed, often sec­ond-hand dis­cov­ery of his father’s youth­ful indis­cre­tions is han­dled with admirable sen­si­tiv­i­ty and poise.

And while the film may appear to be a bit­ter­sweet dis­sec­tion of a man run­ning off the final vapours of life, it also address­es the death of old Amer­i­can. These sand-blast­ed ghost towns that Payne knows so well are also pre­sent­ed as being on the cusp of obscu­ri­ty, as the let­ters have fall­en off all the signs and vacant lots fill up the down­town strip.

For the most part, this is a love­ly com­e­dy of regret and remorse that deals with how the prospect of death is viewed by both young and old. At its best, it shows Payne’s capac­i­ty for a melan­cholic human­ism that cap­tures a con­sum­mate mix­ture of tragedy and comedy.

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