Though I was born and raised in Wisconsin and have lived in Los Angeles for the last eight years, my heart and home will always reside in a small town nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains of western North Carolina. The list of whys is too long to get into but the people of that region have a lot to do with it. They’re not better or more decent or kinder than the others. If the four winds of my life have taught me anything (I lived in Florida for a time, as well) it’s that when it comes to basic humanity, people are people, essentially good and a pleasure to get to know. The people of North Carolina, however, are just more my speed. Again the whys don’t matter, but I miss them and am also protective of them — especially when it comes to a ridiculously bigoted film industry always out to denigrate and humiliate cultures who vote differently than they do.
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Co-Writer/director Debra Granik’s “Winters Bone” isn’t set in the mountains of North Carolina, it’s set in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri, but it reminded me of home nonetheless, that part of home miles away from town where the fiercely independent but dirt poor live deep in the woods, mostly by choice. Of course, that’s as far as the comparison goes. Though they can at first be stand-offish and suspicious, for the most part my former neighbors are as good as they come. Not so in this stunningly original and quietly suspenseful exploration of criminal family ties set in the sparsely populated hollers of the cold and barren winter backwoods.
Call it “Hillbilly Noir,” because like any classic noir story this one takes place in a tonally dark, morally twisted and frequently frightening subculture filled with danger (and superb character actors), tragedy and death. In this rural area where (just like Hollywood) in one way or another most everyone’s related, those rascally moonshiners have been replaced by methamphetamine dealers. No longer is the contraband about the populist idea of avoiding paying the government’s liquor tax, it’s about the dirty and murderous work of drug dealing, and not just any drug. Meth is a ravager of mind and body, and it’s into this world 17 year-old Ree Dolly (an astonishingly good Jennifer Lawrence), must go if she’s to find her father and save her two younger siblings and sick mother from losing the only home they have, a rustic cabin set on a few acres of timber.
Like the rest of the extended family, Dad was hip deep in the meth trade but got busted. Out on bail, he’s due for trial in a week, but no one can find him and in lieu of cash he put the homestead up. If Dad doesn’t show up in court, Ree and family will be homeless. This likely means splitting up the younger kids with relatives involved in the drug trade, Ree joining the Army, and heaven knows what fate for poor, sick Mom – but it most likely involves the horror of a State institution.
In order to save her home and family, Ree is forced to enter the dangerous underground world her father was such a part of — an extremely secretive, violent and paranoid world where speaking out loud any knowledge of anything could mean prison time. Ree might be blood, but she’s not worth prison and the only leeway her relatives seem willing to give her is a verbal warning to stop asking questions as opposed to a physical one (at least at first). But as the days pass, an increasingly desperate Ree has no choice but to press the issue and cautiously makes her way up the meth-dealing hierarchy to make clear she has no intention of letting this go.
Ree’s also made of sterner stuff than her delicate features first telegraph and she proceeds to throw in this closed society’s face the fact that they should be ashamed of themselves for not helping one of their own. This approach only raises the stakes, though. When you corner some very dangerous people with the personal, something’s got to give. Ree is especially hard on her father’s brother, Teardrop (the brilliant John Hawkes), and his volatile nature (aided by a nasty meth habit) could lead him to do anything.
For the film’s full 100 minutes I was on edge, and not just due to a tightly wound and thoroughly engrossing story that slowly builds to what you’re sure is a breaking point. I was also waiting for the leftist sucker punch, the obligatory, gratuitous political shot necessary to assure the coastal elites who make the movies that they’re superior to the Red State racist rubes who practice that creepy Jesus religion. But the “Yee-haw!” moment never came. Instead, what I was treated to was one of the most original films released all year and the rare one that awards this culture the dignity they deserve.
No stereotypes, no spell-breaking with out-of-place references to race or religion, just a very simple story told sparingly and effectively about real people — good and bad — living life their own way. Some might complain that the criminal portrayal alone is a stereotype, but that’s unfair. “Winter’s Bone” is like any mob or gang drama, this one just happens to be set in the Ozarks. And though many of the characters are involved in something bad, each is given their own humanity and in many cases, even portrayed with sympathy. You also come to respect many of the character’s individual qualities; their independence, pride and intelligence. We’re not watching the condemnation of a lifestyle a bigoted Hollywood usually ridicules and marginalizes. Just the opposite. We’re shown what this poison of drugs has done to a once proud and dignified culture.
I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you to pay extra special attention to a scene involving an Army recruiter. Nothing major happens, but it’s a beautifully written and acted scene that uncharacteristically portrays the military in a very real, human and sensitive light. But that’s true for the entire film. Thanks to assured direction, a perfect setting, and a group of incredibly gifted actors credibly able to pull off these characters (even the accents!), “Winter’s Bone” might not have ranked number one on this countdown, but it’s most certainly the number one pleasant surprise of the year.
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