Four stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, brief violence and occasional profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.23.19
Precious few films deserve to be mentioned alongside Mark Twain’s richly evocative, character-driven prose.
This is one of them.
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| Determined to take advantage of Rule No. 1 — "Party!" — Zak (Zack Gottsagen, left) and Tyler (Shia LaBeouf) dip rather too enthusiastically into a jug of moonshine bestowed by an obliging store owner. |
The comparison runs deeper than tone and atmosphere. Writer/directors Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz deliberately evoke the spirit of Samuel Langhorne Clemens as their endearing, deeply heartwarming tale proceeds. It’s easy to imagine Twain having concocted just such an intimate, transformational fable, had he settled in the swampy, reed-filled inlets and quiet sandy beaches of North Carolina.
Nilson and Schwartz’s mythical saga has a similar sense of otherworldly timelessness, ingeniously leavened with a dollop of contemporary social consciousness. The script — and precisely crafted dialog — never put a foot wrong.
The result is utterly charming.
Zak (Zack Gottsagen), a young man with Down Syndrome, chafes in a nursing home for senior citizens in the final stages of life: the only facility willing to accept him, after being abandoned by his original family. Despite an inherent optimism and outward cheerfulness, he’s restless and miserable in an environment clearly not suited to his needs.
This doesn’t go unnoticed by Eleanor (Dakota Johnson), an empathetic volunteer who has tried to be a friend; at the very least, she’s closer to his age than anybody else. Zak appreciates the effort, and promises that she’ll be one of the privileged few invited to his next birthday party.
Zak’s only joy comes from endlessly re-watching an old promotional videotape starring his longtime hero: a professional wrestler dubbed the Salt Water Redneck (Thomas Haden Church). More than anything else, Zak dreams of traveling to Florida, in order to enroll at his idol’s wrestling school.
Elsewhere, personal tragedy has left Tyler (Shia LaBeouf) unable to cope with the world. At the loosest of ends, sleeping rough and incapable (unwilling?) to hold a steady job, he survives solely by stealing the caged catches of other crab fishermen. But that’s a dangerous gamble, when everybody similarly scrambles to stay alive; Tyler runs afoul of rival fishermen Duncan (John Hawkes) and Ratboy (Southern rapper Yelawolf), who threaten to kill him.
Zak, no stranger to escape attempts, finally succeeds one night with some assistance from his roommate, Carl (Bruce Dern, enjoying a late-career Renaissance playing feisty old coots). Alas, the effort leaves him clad solely in briefs. Stumbling barefoot and shirtless in the dark, he finally hides beneath the tarp in a dockside skiff … which happens to belong to Tyler, who has just compounded his problems with a stupid and spiteful act.
Forced to flee by boat into the reedy inlets, with Duncan and Ratboy in vengeful pursuit, Tyler is well away before he discovers the stowaway.
Back at the nursing home, Eleanor is read the riot act by a jerkwad boss concerned solely with bureaucracy. Find Zak and bring him back, she’s warned, before paperwork must be filed. And, so, she also hits the road.
What follows is a classic journey of misfits. The catalyst is easy to accept: Tyler, unable to deal with caring for himself, grudgingly finds motivation in watching over somebody who’s much more vulnerable. But the evolving dynamic isn’t that one-sided. Long accustomed to fending for himself, Tyler perceives how Zak’s self-esteem has been stifled by the environment he has fled.
Living rough subsequently becomes a series of random encounters that strengthen a growing bond: one of the oldest of “road picture” clichés, and yet always — in the proper hands — a proven, irresistible winner.
Gottsagen is a marvel: sucha find. His guileless, trusting gaze radiates uncomplicated honesty, and his line deliveries are to die for. Zak is a simple soul, with often single-minded purpose; he’s blunt but not unkind, and has an innocent child’s tendency to hammer the same question or statement, until he gets a satisfactory response.
And since thoughtful answers clearly aren’t Tyler’s strong suit, the dynamic is ripe for humor.
But — and this is crucial — Nilson and Schwartz take great pains, at all times, to avoid humiliating or exploiting their actor, or his character. It’s an insanely delicate line: the importance of laughing with Zak, and never at him. That the filmmakers navigate this distinction with such heartfelt sensitivity, speaks volumes to their talent. Indeed, this is an impressively accomplished feature debut.
Johnson, perhaps hoping to put the erotic nonsense of the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy behind her, has found salvation in Eleanor; her performance is warm, thoughtful and persuasively heartfelt. Eleanor, too, is on a journey: one that she’s perceptive enough to appreciate, as happenstance and coincidence eventually work their magic.
LaBeouf, a genuinely talented actor too frequently content to slum in big-budget trash or pretentious art films, might not have had to dig too deep for this role; at first blush, Tyler seems cut from the same disaffected, discontented and petulant cloth that too frequently has characterized LaBeouf’s real-world personality. But we’re soon reminded of the subtlety of his acting chops: the depth of emotion that he brings to a sidelong glance or challenging gaze.
It becomes clear that Tyler genuinely understands Zak, despite initially regarding his unexpected companion as a burden. Even at Tyler’s most aloof moments, LaBeouf allows a vestige of humanity and kindness to leak through his hardened exterior: a reminder of the person he used to be, as evidenced by a series of brief and silent flashbacks.
Subtlety actually is this film’s watchword. Nilson and Schwartz have concocted a wealth of irresistible characters — some of them seen only fleetingly — and cast them with equally striking actors (and civilians) who bring them unerringly to life. I’m particularly enchanted by a brief encounter with a humble shopkeeper (Bruce Henderson) who enjoys moonshine; and the blind, gun-toting backwoods preacher (Wayne DeHart) who really cements the Twain connection.
Hawkes has lost none of the seething malevolence that he radiated so well in 2010’s Winter’s Bone, and several films since then. Duncan is implacably scary; Yelawolf, as the mostly silent Ratboy, is flat-out terrifying.
Nigel Bluck’s cinematography turns the setting into an equally strong character: a stylized, languid version of the backwaters and byroads of the rural South. He makes striking use of occasional overhead shots, and we get a palpable sense of the region’s heat, humidity and soggy personality. A distant shot of Tyler and Zak striding in the shallows, seeming to walk on water, carries its own enchantment.
Actually, pretty much everything about The Peanut Butter Falcon feels magical, including a climactic moment that’ll raise eyebrows, but still seems appropriate to the story being told. Films like this are what I hope to discover, each time the theater lights dim.
Tuesday evening’s preview audience applauded when it concluded, and I’ve no doubt you’ll do the same.
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