3.5 stars. Rated R, for profanity, violence, sexual candor and brief drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.1.20
Some stones are best left unturned.
Blow the Man Down — streaming via Amazon Prime — is an impressive feature debut by indie writer/directors Bridget Savage Cole and Danielle Krudy, and a snarky slice of modern noir: Fargo transplanted to the similarly rugged Northeast.
The setting is Easter Cove, a remote fishing village on Maine’s rocky coast, where (and I’m quoting the press notes here) “bonds run as deep as the ocean, and secrets are as thick as the morning fog.” Cole, Krudy and cinematographer Todd Banhazi deftly convey this setting’s isolation and bitter cold, and the location clearly is authentic (with Maine’s Harpswell, population just shy of 5,000, standing in for the fictitious Easter Cove).
Folks have kept themselves to themselves for generations; the notion of outsiders — or tourists — is incomprehensible. And while outwardly the community is kept alive by the tough and robust men who, every morning, take to the sea for the daily catch, appearances can be deceiving.
The story opens just after the passing of beloved town matriarch Mary Margaret Connolly. She leaves behind two young adult daughters: the elder Priscilla (Sophie Lowe), who kept the family fish shop going during their mother’s declining health; and the more restless Mary Beth (Morgan Saylor), who has long hoped for college and a life anywhere other than Easter Cove.
Ergo, Priscilla is the loyal and responsible daughter, while Mary Beth is more of an impulsive wild child. Priscilla’s obvious hope that, with their mother now gone, Mary Beth will step up and accept her share of the new responsibilities — bills and unpaid loans that have left them financially precarious — are dashed almost immediately.
Lowe’s features reflect the pinched, quietly anxious aura of one who has grown accustomed to living under constant stress; she persuasively conveys Priscilla’s visible disappointment, with a soupçon of resentment, at her younger sister’s selfishness. Saylor, in turn, is equally convincing as the spoiled and self-centered Mary Beth, who sees no reason to put on her big-girl pants.
But neither girl realizes the degree to which their mother maintained a delicate balance, behind the scenes, among the town’s true old-guard operators: discrete manipulators Susie Gallagher (June Squibb), Doreen Burke (Marceline Hugot), Gail Maguire (Annette O’Toole) and Enid Nora Devlin (the indomitable Margo Martindale).
The latter has long run her bed & breakfast as the local brothel, an operation that was “protected” by Mary Margaret. But with that shield now absent, Susie, Doreen and Gail are (they believe) in a position to clamp down on Enid’s blatantly depraved operation, which also has been tolerated — with a wink-wink/nudge-nudge — by feckless Police Chief Coletti (Skipp Sudduth).

