While we often think of thrilling action and spectacular spectacle when we think of “going to the movies,” there’s something to be said for movies that capture the quiet beauty of everyday life—not just the unusually bombastic stories that dominate the box office. Kelly Reichardt has built a career telling personal, intimate, low-risk stories that highlight the beauty of small things and her latest film, Appearis no exception.
Creating an enchantingly peaceful yet strangely frustrating artistic paradise, Appear’The vivid portrait of a starving artist’s daily life is bolstered by a heavy-handed performance by Michelle Williams and features a handful of scene-stealing supporting cast members including Hong Chau, André Benjamin, John Magaro and Judd Hirsch.
Appear follows a few days in the life of Lizzie (Williams), a sculptor preparing for an upcoming exhibition of her work, whose efforts are constantly interrupted by the trivial frustrations of her everyday life. Unfulfilled in an office job at her local art college and increasingly frustrated by the lack of hot water in her building, she lives an existence full of simple complications that turn what should be a simple artistic endeavor into an exhausting ordeal that leaves Lizzy at the end of. .
From the opening title sequence, which spans various paintings of Lizzy, Appear quickly and efficiently builds a vibrant world filled with free-spirited artists forced into the mundane confines of everyday life. Although the camera often stays still, the halls of the art college where Lizzy works are constantly buzzing with activity—in between pushing the narrative points of the plot, Reichardt often takes time to simply watch the college’s artists work with their natural element.
Such detail and loose filmmaking can be tiring for a viewer who likes a little more action in his narrative, but Appearthe relative lack of narrative stakes only helps to accentuate the emotionality of Williams’ performance—no doubt the key ingredient that helps Appear it really soars. This is her fourth film with Reichardt and it’s clear they share a mutual creative understanding. The delicate, understated simplicity and beauty of the world around her informs Williams’ performance, while Williams herself serves as the muse and focus for Reichardt’s carefully detailed visual narrative.
Many of Lizzy’s daily annoyances come at the hands of Jo (Chau), Lizzy’s friend, neighbor, fellow artist and landlord. While Lizzy prepares for a humble, low-key show, Jo has secured an enviable position at an upscale local gallery and is so busy preparing for her opening that she neglects to maintain their building’s plumbing and eventually unloads the care of an injured bird to Lizzy. . Jo and Lizzy’s constant debate about whether or not Jo has fixed the water heater is oddly amusing in its simplicity and believability, especially considering how much time we spend with Jo herself.
That’s what’s great about Reichardt’s filmmaking (and Chau’s performance) – in another film, Jo would just be a recurring irritating and clueless, annoying neighbor, but instead she’s a fully realized character in her own right, whose stress-induced conflicts with Lizzy don’t stop them from being friends at the end of the day.
Meanwhile, Lizzie’s intense dedication to caring for the injured pigeon that Jo saddles her with is reflected in her complicated family dynamics. Her parents are bitterly divorced, and she is seemingly the only member of her family who constantly worries about Sean, her unstable brother prone to frequent bouts of paranoia. Lizzy’s family isn’t grandiose in their tragedy, but there’s something about the intimacy of their story that makes it all the more painful to watch: parents with a bitter divorce and a sibling struggling with mental health still loom large, tedious, complex problems, even if they are common.
And it’s clear that the combined stress of caring for her bird, managing her crumbling family dynamic, surviving without hot water, and trying to get her sculptures done on time, is taking a toll. By the time her show starts, Lizzy seems almost dead set on her feat. Williams lives in exhaustion for a large chunk of the film that makes me tired just watching it, but the miraculous beauty of Kelly Reichardt’s direction (and a screenplay co-written with frequent collaborator Jon Raymond) is that even after stress and weariness, there is still a genuine joy to be found in the film’s final act. Yes, Lizzy goes through it, but at the end of the day, her hard work and fatigue has resulted in a beautiful performance she can be proud of, surrounded by the people she loves and who inspire her the most.
There is something about the airy, open, always buzzing yet peaceful world of art that Reichardt has created Appear that makes you want to live in it forever. Even as we see Lizzy drifting to the brink of collapse, both she and the audience ultimately find peace and simple beauty once the journey is over. From production design to sound engineering and music, every little detail Appear it works in gentle harmony and the end result is a beautiful little film with a magnetic performance from Michelle Williams and a quietly enchanting sense of self.
(featured image: A24)
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