Beeswax

Beeswax

100 Minutes

Oh, dissatisfied, post-collegiate white youth. Will you ever tire of kinda’ sorta’ complaining about the aches and pains of your self-absorbed existence? Obviously, pain is subjective, and the pain suffered by the chronically self-indulgent is real. Luckily for you, there’s mumblecore, a whole American indie movement dedicated to chronicling the non-drama of your life.

Youth is the subject of mumblecore as well the condition of its existence. But these affable tales of American stasis and inarticulateness exist at a lower level of intensity than comparable youth-loving movies of the past. Godard’s young protagonists were driven by ideas, by passions or even by a desire to make their way in the world; they dreamed of becoming gangsters, thieves, revolutionaries–characters in a movie. Mumblecore sneers at flamboyance; its prevailing mood is diffidence and its characters are neither rebels nor bohemians, stuck in a state of semi-refined, moderately hip poverty. In comparison to their mumblecore kin, Andrew Bujalki’s films, and in particular Beeswax, are elusively engaging and well constructed de facto reproaches to Hollywood ‘s elephantine methods and asinine formulas.

Bujalski built the script around actual twin sisters Maggie and Tilly Hatcher, who play twin sisters: blonde, kind-of-skittish Jeannie, and brunette, easier-going Lauren. Jeannie manages and co-owns Storyville, an Austin boutique that specializes in second-hand and vintage clothing, while Lauren drifts between teaching jobs. Jeannie is involved in a long-simmering dispute with Amanda (Anne Dodge), her partner in the store’s ownership, and contacts ex-boyfriend and law student Merrill (Alex Karpovsky) for advice. An evening spent deciphering the language of a business contract ends in, as Jeannie puts it semi-ironically, “hot sex,” and soon Merrill is back in her life, actively angling for a more substantial relationship while trying to make Jeannie’s business problems disappear. As the narrative unfolds, Jeannie’s shortcomings, i.e. her inability to figure out a business contract, are balanced out by her the shortcomings of those around her: her sister’s fear of commitment, her sometime-boyfriend’s emotional neediness, her business partner’s inability to equally participate in the business. Though literally crippled and somewhat passive-aggressive, Jeannie emerges as the bravest, most capable person on screen.

Beeswax is a uniquely cerebral film that lovingly critiques the mysteries of speech. The actresses are fresh and appealing, and Beeswax captures the semi-articulate flow of conversation among a certain social type. The bulk of the drama is based on which words will spill out of mouths and what they’ll really mean. There’s always the potential of conflict, but it’s never mined. For Bujalski, passing desires and impulses not acted on are the major dramatic events, with most of the movie dedicated to ineffable conversations. Some moments play like Cassavetes, except without the brilliant, high-pressure acting and brutal truthfulness. Bujalski manages to direct all his nonprofessional actors to the same hyper-dull communication level; it certainly takes skill to get everyone to deliver his or her lines in a similarly introverted, halting, self-doubting manner. There’s a reason why the acting profession exists. With this film it’s become more evident that Bujalski’s amateur players are unable to achieve convincing interaction and that professional actors are needed to achieve such naturalism in such contained spaces and with such close-up character-driven drama. The vicissitudes and complexities of human behavior that Bujalski concentrates on are difficult to recreate on screen by those with little experience; the result is that more often than not his actors seem more aware of the camera and themselves than of each other.

For me, watching a mumblecore movie is like trying to figure out what kind of seasoning an insipid dish needs. I’m stuck in mumblecore limbo; between detractors who feel mumblecore movies are nothing more than portraits of a new generation of privileged white slackers and admirers who claim it delivers insights that Hollywood can’t even come close to. I’m not going to deny that these filmmakers, and especially Bujalski, have talent and make the most of their meager resources. Bujalski’s balks at being so closely associated with mumblecore. However, if you don’t count shooting on film and writing a script, he does little to distance himself from such labels here. The result is all right and Beeswax is perfectly satisfied to whir along through its 100 minutes without ever threatening to come up with much that’s surprising, troubling or especially unpredictable. Chatty exploration of modern-day relationships and insecurities can’t quite diminish Beeswax’s self-satisfied air of fashionable inconsequentiality and, for all its low-key allure, it’s most likely to inspire in viewers an irritated “so what?”

by Teri Carson