Directed By Padraic McKinley

Starring – Ethan Hawke, Russell Crowe, Julia Jones

The Plot – Desperate to save what is left of his family, during the height of the Great Depression, a battle-scarred veteran (Hawke) is hired to help smuggle a fortune in gold across 100 miles of impenetrable wilderness.

Rated R for adult language and some violence/bloody images.

The Weight | Official Trailer (HD) | Vertical

POSITIVES

Even in an ever-increasing age of exceptionally daring directorial debuts, there’s an effortlessly intoxicating ease to The Weight’s crucial undertaking that abides by such a cohesively singular vision of collective filmmaking, cementing not only a brutally intense crowd-pleaser worthy of our unmitigated investment, but also a grippingly tender against-all-odds story about the extraneous lengths that a father takes to once again be reunited with his daughter. While that plot might certainly sound familiar from the many films ultimately derived from before it, the intended period and unforgiving environments enact a meaningful component of down-and-out despair that not only helps motivate the dangerous objectives of its conflicted characters, with every irresponsible or illogical action along the way being made interpretably justifiable by their increasing desperation, but also unearths one of the year’s most meaningful layered productions, which brings authenticity and grounded realism of the captured era to every frame. As to where most movies centering around The Great Depression have an unintended way of polishing up the presentation, the exact opposite can be said with The Weight, where combined components ranging from the worn and weathered wardrobe choices stitched to the characters, to the beat-up automobiles, to the inescapable dirt that seems to linger and cover everyone and everything, inscribes this incomparable raw aesthetic to the engagement that corresponds seamlessly to the kinds of harsh and lived-in tangibles that drive McKinley’s decorative direction, allowing him to externalize so much of the internalized agony of the characters, in thickly unrelenting ways that correspond naturally to the hopelessly mirrored parameters of both prison and the outside world alike for the intended time. Considering the many unique methods of McKinley’s documentation of Samuel’s grief and his inescapably heavy circumstances, it’s difficult to pick just one component over the rest that I enjoyed about his direction, though I will say the decision to draw out scenes of stomach-turning lows and triumphant highs seem to be the proverbial frontrunner among his many personal touches, allowing us to sit with more of the measured emotionality of the moment in ways that land inescapably impactful to the detectability of the accommodating edit, where relief only materializes once we’ve properly defined what’s lingering at the restless conscience of a helpless father left alone with his mile-a-minute thoughts. McKinley’s influence over the film can certainly be seen and felt in a platitude of ways throughout the experience, but none more consistently influential than overseeing the merited performances of both Ethan Hawke and Russell Crowe, who shine under such humbling and haunting circumstances. In Samuel, Hawke specifically gives the kind of ferociously fierce and commanding turn that makes it difficult to imagine anyone else in the role, with a balancing act between the soft and sentimental protectiveness of his first act fatherhood clashing aggressively with the detrimentally determined side of his hardened prison time, in order to enact a fearlessly bold protagonist earning every square inch of the audience’s empathy. As for Crowe, his screentime might pale in comparison to Hawke’s, but it doesn’t make his imposing turn as the morally ambiguous Clancy feel any less mesmerizing, specifically while brandishing a sternly strict sensibility to the devilish deliveries of his dialogue, which offer plenty of interpretable substance to the intended double meanings of the character’s aggressive assertions. Not to be outdone by masterful direction or prominent performances, the screenplay co-written by Matthew Booi and Shelby Gaines also has a deconstructive quality about its enacted material, where the western tendencies of its opening act of capture and conquest quickly evolve and expand into a harrowing heist of backstabs and unforeseen intruders, giving the film’s already intensely gripping narrative the kind of scintillating suspense that it requires to cook the overarching stakes of the characters to perfection. While McKinley’s direction already appraises vulnerability for the characters in the unpredictability of the established environment, with creaky bridges or rushing rapids finding its way into the regretful realities of those involved, it’s taken to another level when the idea of honor among thieves becomes compromised by the greed for freedom that hands heavily over the shoulders of incarcerated characters, evoking plenty of unaccountably complex elements for Samuel’s once straight and narrow path objective, but beyond that a thought-provoking dissection on the ideas of wealth representing freedom, offering more profoundly stimulating substance than expected for a story pertaining to a group of prisoners attempting to pull the big con over the United States Government, that in turn robbed them of their once ambitiously optimistic outlook on life. All that being said, the real highlight and show-stealer for the film is definitely Italian cinematographer, Mateo Cocco, whose spellbinding camera work and contextual compositions of every frame artistically enamor with the kind of adaptability to environment that further emphasizes the aforementioned immersive element of the engagement. Cocco shoots these beautifully symmetrical images seen throughout the film that are not only the kind of visual perfection that play prominently on the biggest screen conceivable, but also filled with the kind of visual symbolism that offer us meaningful dexterity alongside the influence of the depicted character from which they emanate from. Aside from the smoothly scenic splendor compositions of the narrative’s more sedated moments, as soon as the action sequences hit, it becomes something entirely different all together, as Mateo opts for more of the handheld schemes within his distinguished photography, in order to emit an immersive breathlessness to so much of the experienced intensity of the characters. Instead of the typical swaying of handheld photography that contorts cohesion without all together compromising it, the kind utilized here are very much the frantically navigating variety that put you directly in the path of devastation with these characters, while constantly experiencing mud splashes or whizzing bullets, and with the stark deviating contrasts between styles offering a viscerally raw realism to the integrity of the engagement, it allows those vulnerably supercharged moments to stand out more accordingly to the urgency of adversarial evasion. Even as the visuals build towards these inevitable confrontations, there’s an air of detectable outsider influence to the many wide angles that comprise suspense from their undefined curiosity, driving the speculation of the audience with navigationally meandering shots so voyeuristically framed that you brace for the inevitable of those who may or may not eventually arrive.

NEGATIVES

Though nothing even closely resembling all-together compromising offenses to the film’s integrity, there are two problems to the movie’s execution that kept it from reaching the full magnitude of its potential, beginning with the lack of development towards supporting characters whom we never get an airtight grasp of, regardless of the heist involving plenty of interactions between them. While this is entirely a narrative paid to Samuel, some more opening act attention paid towards fleshing out some individualized dynamics, as well as backstory exposition, could’ve went a long way in utilizing influential impact in the eventual developments of the characters, in turn allowing for more emphasized shock factor to the film’s bigger swerves, which don’t exactly land unpredictably. It requires the supporting cast to work overtime towards bringing the personalities of their characters to life, and while they succeed admirably, especially Julia Jones and Austin Amelio handing in a couple of scene-stealing turns, it never amounts to anything meaningful among their intentionally gut-wrenching turns or devastating losses, leaving much to be desired about the use of its deliberately paced material during the opening act. Besides the lack of compelling characterization among the supporting characters, I also found the resolution of the ending to lack the same kind of realistic grit and responsive retort of the rest of the film, where much about the neat-and-tidy finish line for these characters feels much easier than it rightfully should be. While the dependable emotionality certainly resonates in one way or another from its closing moments, I feel like some previously avoided cliches in the writing eventually set-in on some of the clunky plot devices to get there, where more time and patience, as well as an unexplored possibility that I thought was inevitably coming could’ve helped shoulder the burden of a film that starts to crumble under the weight of its own ambition.

OVERALL
The Weight is a tensely gripping introspective thriller about the limitless avenues that a struggling father takes to reunite with his daughter, in the face of overwhelming adversity. Anchored by rock-solid performances from Ethan Hawke and Russell Crowe, as well as a grittily gruesome atmospheric environment, the film represents a breathtaking breakthrough for Padraic McKinley, whose fearless confidence and collectively cohesive vision unloads a harrowingly haunting experience that grows heavier with each passing minute.

My Grade: 8.7 or A-