Take Me To The River

Or: Thicker Than Water

When seventeen year old Ryder (Logan Miller) accompanies his mother Cindy (Robin Weigert) and father Don (Richard Schiff) back to a family reunion in Nebraska, the seemly biggest object on the table is whether he should come out to his extended and very rural folks or not ruffle any feathers. But when an unfortunate altercation occurs with his favorite younger cousin Molly (Ursala Parker) resulting in an explosion from Cindy’s brother Keith (Josh Hamilton) Ryder finds himself swept up in an family power play and that his Nebraskan kin play a deep game indeed.

The debut film of Matt Sobel, Take Me To The River is a deceptively simple, deeply disturbing story. The camera discovers things as Ryder does: picks up cabals in fuzzy corners, watches obscure figures tramp through the fields by lamplight, and drink in the heat-flattened countryside alive with susurrations. The script is a curiosity, rolling between disarming Wes Anderson-esque bluntness and cut-offs brimming with things unsaid (though due to the sound quality there are times where we couldn’t hear them even if they were said). But the real live core of the script is the sense of extreme discomfort it engenders as we wait for the two separate worlds (Californian and Nebraskan, kosher vs colt .45) to collide and erupt into the bloody violence that we feel certain is just around the corner. It’s a pressure cooker that leaves us gripping the armrests and our ribs constricting, struggling to guess what kind of web Keith is spinning, and coming to the horrible realization of where he’s getting his thread.

Parker provides some of the best child acting I’ve seen, being able to both to convey deep ambiguity and also be a kid, which is what she is. Miller too captures the total thoughtlessness and stupidity of a seventeen year old, defiant and clueless both. But our frustrations with his thickness give way to a desire to see him safe out of the danger he doesn’t realize he’s in. Hamilton’s placid but piercing gaze and barked commands perfectly turns Keith out as a younger Larry Cook: the affable but uncrossable bulldozer of a man who knows what he wants and expects the world to give it to him. The crown of the piece though, undeniably, must go to Weigert who perfectly inhabits Cindy, as she struggles to protect her son and outflank her brother. Far beyond giving a compelling performance, she makes us ache for her as she metamorphoses back and forth, in manner and even voice, between what she has been and what she has worked so hard to become. Thank goodness for Richard Schiff, who leavens the film with his customary Richard Schiffdom. His comedy is very small but deeply nuanced and comes in at just the right time to let us breathe again.

I never knew there could be such stories where such visceral disquiet could create such a pleasurable impression. Take Me to The River is a cataract that leaves you wet and shaken, wondering how you’ll ever get through it, but the more you think of it the more cleverly wrought all its facets become. It’s well worth the plunge into murky, troubled waters.