By Noel Vera
Video
Mudbound
Directed by Dees Rees
DEES REES鈥檚 Mudbound (2017), adapted from the novel by Hillary Jordan, tells the story of two families — one white the other black — scratching out a living on the Mississippi Delta. Two soldiers come home, one a white officer (captain of a bomber crew), the other a black officer (sergeant and tank commander).
The film has its problems. Rees uses voice-overs to convey inner meditations, a valid enough approach until the umpteenth time you hear them musing Terence Malick-style and you wonder if perhaps the film could have done without; the thoughts are lyrically written but a touch too explicit where a little mystery might have helped draw us in.
This is only Rees鈥檚 fourth feature — her first was a documentary on her grandmother, her second a fictionalized autobiography, her third a biopic of singer Bessie Smith — and already you notice two things: 1.) she apparently dislikes repeating herself, not just on subject matter but form and genre, and 2.) she has extended the scope of her work each time by leaps and bounds.
Mudbound is easily her most intimidatingly intricate project yet; two families made up of seven major characters over what seems like the space of five or six years (from 1939 to after World War 2), the setting ranging everywhere from Southern farmland to the skies above Germany — a sprawling ambitious narrative that needs a sure touch, a deft touch, a touch Rees doesn鈥檛 quite possess at this moment.
A more serious flaw: I have not read Jordan鈥檚 novel and I am not sure if this comes from the source or was imposed on the material by Rees and co-writer Virgil Williams, but while the white family鈥檚 troubles are dwarfed by those of the black (this is the Jim Crow South after all), there鈥檚 more complexity to the portrayal of the white characters, more ambiguity and shading. Front and center in the drama are the two handsomest: Laura (Carey Mulligan) and Jamie (Garrett Hedlund).
Laura quietly states that she鈥檚 a virgin; all the more shocking when she鈥檚 married and brought from a comfortable middle class neighborhood to the muddy terrain of Mississippi. We鈥檙e constantly inside Laura鈥檚 skin; we feel her flinch in horror at the poverty surrounding her, at the cruelty meted out to tenant farmers black and white; we empathize with her angry insistence in hauling in her piano from the rain (they had just arrived at their little shack of a home) — the only 鈥渃ivilized鈥 object in that godforsaken landscape (Jane Campion鈥檚 The Piano much?). As Mulligan plays her, she鈥檚 a pale palimpsest on which soil and wind and the men in her life leave their mark.
Jamie, like Laura, is a constant witness to the film鈥檚 swerves and twists; he鈥檚 the first to really notice Ronsel (Jason Mitchell) not as a black man wearing a uniform (an affront to most Southern gentlemen), but a former soldier unsure of his footing in the alien world he鈥檚 landed on. Jamie and Laura develop a tentative attraction, but it鈥檚 Jamie鈥檚 budding friendship with Ronsel that matters — two men wary at first, then comfortable enough to share vulnerabilities, finally willing to lay one鈥檚 life (or more) for the other.
We see through Ronsel鈥檚 eyes almost as often as we see through Jamie鈥檚 — the difference is where Jamie gazes at a subtle palette of hues, Ronsel squints at dramatic black and white, white being the more threatening color. It鈥檚 not the actor鈥檚 fault; Mitchell, Florence (Mary J. Bilge) his mother, and Hap (Rob Morgan) his father pose against the desolate landscape more like monuments to endurance and suffering than flawed human beings. They wear their nobility lightly about their shoulders, but fail to really come to life.
That said, it is odd that the most egregious example of undercharacterization happens to be Henry, Laura鈥檚 husband. As incarnated by Jason Clarke he鈥檚 more lump than a man, oblivious of everything including his wife鈥檚 pain and his brother鈥檚 flickering attraction for her, and so inert he has to be shunted out of town to allow the more dramatic scenes to take place (at least it feels that way).
Jonathan Banks doesn鈥檛 play Henry鈥檚 Pappy with any more nuance than Clarke does Henry, yet the actor that burned a hole in the small screen in shows like Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul — though I really first noticed him in Wiseguy — can鈥檛 help but make Pappy a charismatic if cartoonish monster, like the wizened version of Dennis Hopper in an episode of The Twilight Zone.
All of which seems strangely irrelevant towards film鈥檚 end, when narrative strands have fully unraveled and the different people blindly following have tangled — some fatally — with each other. Mudbound ends in melodrama but not quite cheap melodrama; you do develop feelings for the characters, even the ones wrapped in virtuous garb, and you do feel compelled to learn of their respective fates. It is a powerful film when all is said and done, and Rees does show skill in weaving the strands into a strong unslippable noose. If I鈥檓 left more moved than admiring — well I鈥檓 reminded of another World War 2 film done by a woman, Janice O鈥橦ara鈥檚 Sundalong Kanin (Rice Soldiers): she had the opportunity and only limited time and she struck; better a flawed work done in haste and the heat of passion (she must have reasoned) than a cold lifeless piece of unfinished perfection — at least that鈥檚 how it played out in this case.
