In turn, Deel receives a fatal stab wound in the chest. When no one's around, he sips paint and mud in one of the film's many indications of psychological distress. Undertow may be worth seeing for the visuals, which are breathtaking, but the story and character are too thin. It takes us a while to get back to our baseline; Green takes us to that place where we keep feelings that we treasure, but are a little afraid of. Apparently not, but such bastardy takes willing participants, and Green should be severely chided for moving away from his unique style. Green tends to play the frat boy in his commentaries, for he rambles on about minutia as key scenes play out, which if he commented upon a viewer might get to understand the process of filmmaking even if the scene itself fails.
We never catch him photographing anything for its scenic or decorative effect. Because of Tim's young age and health issues, Chris is routinely asked by their father to do more than his fair share of work around the farm. Both are big, physical, attractive men whose faces aren't unalike. Staying one step ahead of the vengeful Deel, Chris and Tim knit up the raveled strands of their own brotherly bond and experience both treachery and unexpected kindness. Bailed out by his taciturn father, John Dermot Mulroney , Chris returns in disgrace to a grim birthday party for his younger brother, Tim Devon Alan , at the Munn family farm, a ramshackle riot of mud, tattered linens and rooting hogs. Chris's younger brother, Tim Devon Alan , is a skinny, sickly kid who speaks little and eats even less. Reviewed on: 22 May 2005.
Rumor has it that Green is working on adaptations of two recent books that contain dubious potential for him to expand his visual art — Brad Land's atrocious memoir of frat boy hazing, Goat, and Sue Monk Kidd's 'mystical Negroes' novel, The Secret Life of Bees. No wonder Tim arranges his books by the way they smell - everything in the movie, from John's corncob pipe to the caged possum in the living-room, looks rank enough to identify from a hundred paces. The arrangement suits Miguel, or so he believes, but it gnaws deeply at Santiago. Santiago accidentally drowns at sea, and his ghost returns to ask Miguel to find his body, in order to bury it with their village's rituals. We see not the thriving parts of cities, but the desolate places they have forgotten. Deel believes he should have inherited half of the coins and believes John has them hidden somewhere around the place. The two boys live in a rural area of Georgia with their father.
From then on the scene is nothing but tension. Green's second film, included many of the same disconnected moments, but they were now spattered into a story about a womanizer who falls in love for the first time. He eventually finds them hidden behind John's family portrait. By Valentine Rossetti It is very rare to find a film where the sentiment stays with you for days after, but Undertow, the first feature-length film of Peruvian director Javier Fuentes-León, who also wrote, co-produced, and co-edited it, is such a film. The audience recoils in shock. In the end neither the die-hard fans nor newcomers will be completely satisfied.
I thought the acting was superb particularly from Jamie Bell, who is British, playing a poor Southern redneck. He wears these sources lightly. When he gets home he carves it into a birthday present, a toy airplane for his little brother. Turner as Dock Worker, as Jacob, as Violet, Carla Bessey as Violet's Friend, as Gus, Bill McKinney as Grandfather, Michael Gulick as Old Shirtless Man, David Blazina as Watch-Guard, Carlos DeLoach as Big Bad Cop, George Smith as Milk Man, H. Cinematographer Tim Orr's sepia mindset adds much to the dull narrative, especially in the forest scenes in yellow, brown, and hues.
© Dan Schneider Undertow 2004. We know Green can do better. That is where Green totally parts ways with a like , to whom he's often compared, and who actually produced Undertow. The rural South is his stomping ground, and, along with cinematographer Tim Orr, he has woven his stories around crumbling textile mills and deserted railroad tracks, coaxing forlorn beauty from decay and neglect. He leaps out of a barn and lands on a plank driving a long nail through his foot but surprises us by keeping on running, howling with pain, plank and all. Oh, it's not a bad film, but then again it's nothing more than a stylized, updated version of Night of the Hunter, and that was a vastly overrated mediocrity of a film to begin with, directed by in 1955, and starring as a murderous psychopath who stalks children who run away from him. Fuentes-León; released by the Film Collaborative.
But also he wanted the action tempered by the mythic, menacing aesthetic of films such as and Malick's own Badlands, where the sense of dread is directly connected to the land itself. But Rosenbaum isn't far wrong. Green has gone too conventional in some ways, such as cheesy opening titles and an initial series of attention-grabbing freeze-frames, which also continue to reappear sporadically throughout the picture at random moments. The movie divides itself into the time leading up to the violence and the period of flight and pursuit that ends in climax and denouement. The lighting, the mood, the anxiety and manipulated tension, the camera movement, and the mise-en-scene, are all reasons, almost independent of each other, of why this film is a must see, in my opinion.
It still has the good stuff, but now it's steeped in a rudimentary, even ludicrous, plot. Even the ending of the film, where the knife-wielding Deel approaches Chris in a river, after he dumps the gold coins, ends with the boy stabbing his uncle and surviving. Suddenly John's brother Deel Munn Josh Lucas unexpectedly appears, just out of jail and full of anger and envy. On the run, the boys meet an assortment of fairytale-like characters. This neglect has seeped into his characters, whose sweetly inept attempts to connect with each other give his movies a powerful emotional pull.