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USA 1999
Reviewed by Demetrios Matheou
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
The Walkers are a two-unit family: mother Mary Jo is a spirited Southerner and serial spouse who flees town whenever a relationship breaks down; Ava is her 12-year-old daughter, an intelligent child buffeted by her mother's erratic love life.
Following the failure of her last relationship, Mary Jo again uproots herself and Ava and moves to Starlight Beach, near San Diego. There she gets a job as a secretary and Ava enrols in the local school. Mary Jo soon hooks up with Jack, a trucker. Despite a promising beginning, the relationship soon crumbles and Mary Jo decides to leave Starlight Beach. This time Ava, who has developed strong friendships at school, refuses to go with her. She runs away, hiding out at the home of Dan, a work colleague of Mary Jo. Mary Jo finally realises that it is time to put down roots with her child. The two are reconciled. Only then does Mary Jo notice the sensitive Dan, who has been attracted to her all along. Together, they go to see Ava's successful performance as Romeo in a school production of Romeo and Juliet.
Sandwiched between the visceral New York films which established his career, Mean Streets (1973) and Taxi Driver (1976), Martin Scorsese made Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore. A road movie about a newly widowed woman who sets out to find a new life with a young son in tow, the 1974 film very much comes to mind when watching Tumbleweeds, although the allusion doesn't necessarily favour first-time director Gavin O'Connor.
While Alice tries her hardest to avoid men, Mary Jo's compulsive behaviour towards them is the driving force of Tumbleweeds - responsible both for mother and daughter's nomadic lifestyle, and for the tensions between them. In exploring this, the script is often funny, and insightful. In particular, O'Connor and his co-screenwriter Angela Shelton (on whose memoir this film was based) avoid the usual overwrought rationalisations for Mary Jo's insecurities: hers is simply a banal life story, in which one mistake leads to another, until misadventure becomes a habit.
The depiction of the parent/child relationship is also well observed, less in the dialogue, perhaps, than in its palpable physicality: frequent meals, food fights, farting displays; Ava's first period; a trip to the beach wearing matching (and ill-fitting) bathing costumes. Rather than the saccharine show one might find in a more mainstream movie, Janet McTeer and young Kimberly J. Brown's tactile rapport offers something infinitely more believable. Indeed, it's the rich, febrile performance of the British actress, bringing just the right blend of charisma and chaos to her characterisation, that lifts this essentially modest film. Driving her Mustang as if dressed for Ascot, Mary Jo comes across as a raunchier version of Blanche Du Bois, still reckless before tragedy has taken its indelible hold.
The affinities with Scorsese's film are everywhere: in the scenario; the rather naive view of men - as either nice guys or irredeemable brutes - that one sometimes finds in female-centred films made by male directors; and the naturalistic performances. But O'Connor's handling of the mise en scène pales in comparison, exposing the ordinariness of his direction.
This is epitomised by his misguided use of the jarring 'naturalism' - the skittish, arbitrary camerawork - of US television police dramas. Even a quiet dinner scene between mother and child is shot as if the cameraman needs a detox. The result is as intrusive as the writing is subtle. O'Connor also appears in the film, as the trucker Jack; ironically, it is when he's on the road that the director, like his character, seems most at ease.