Discovering marvelous little gems such as this one, is the best part of my job.
Writer/director Billy Luther’s semi-autobiographical film is less a coming-of-age drama, and more a coming-of-identity revelation.
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| Although Benny (Keir Tallman) has nothing in common with his cousin Dawn (Charley Hogan), they become inseperable during a summer that allows the boy to better appreciate his cultural heritage. |
Benny also plays with action figures — he bridles when somebody refers to them as “dolls” — but his make-believe scenarios focus on kissing and their imagined sexual relations.
Perhaps due to pressure from his disapproving father, Benny is shipped off to Arizona, and the family “rez” where his Grandmother Lorraine (Sarah H. Natani, every inch a gentle, loving soul) has lived her entire life. She doesn’t speak a word of English — she refuses to learn, as it’s the “oppressor’s” language — and Benny speaks no Diné. They therefore talk past each other, although Lorraine is generous with her affection.
Benny has better luck with his kind, free-spirited Aunt Lucy (Kahara Hodges), a counter-culture throwback who makes and sells jewelry. His curt, quick-tempered Uncle Marvin (Martin Sensmeier), is more judgmental, believing the boy a disgrace to his Diné ancestry. Marvin fully expects him to help maintain the ramshackle pen where their sheep are kept each night, despite Benny’s total lack of experience with such things.
Small wonder Benny thinks solely of returning to San Diego, in order to see the Fleetwood Mac concert he’d earlier been promised. His isolation is total; even if he knew how to fit in, he’s disinclined to try.
The dynamic shifts with the unexpected arrival of his older cousin, Dawn (Charley Hogan), also dumped for the summer by her no-good mother (Owee Rae). Lorraine takes this in stride; we suspect Dawn frequently gets abandoned in this manner. She’s an aggressively odd duck: defiantly unkempt and somewhat overweight, which long ago prompted the unkind nickname — “Frybread Face” — by which most people call her (because that staple is “round and greasy”).
She’s never seen without her prized possession: a makeshift doll with a Cabbage Patch baby’s head and furry animal body, dubbed “Jeff Bridges” because the only movie she’s seen — repeatedly — is 1984’s Starman (on the rare occasions her grandmother’s generator is working).
