WORDS Brian Wade
It’s been almost two years since writer/director Alexander Payne last graced our screens. In The Descendants, Payne offered up the affable tale of a father losing touch with his family and the subsequent redemption story that was bound to play out well with critics. In Nebraska we recognise all those wonderful directorial trademarks; the nuanced characterisation, the captivating performances and that pureness of visual simplicity so prominent in Payne’s work.
It’s at this time of the year, with awards season impending, where it becomes more and more difficult to distinguish between sincere, committed cinema and the meager Oscar bid that consistently peeps its overtly sentimental head.
While The Descendants is a much finer piece of filmmaking than any of those “weepies”, the decision to cast George Clooney in the slightly off-kilter leading role did hint at an Oscar-grab of sorts. With Nebraska, we find Payne on more heartfelt, genuine terrain, with a story of small‐town America shot in black and white. As the film opens, we find allusions to a less-romanticised kind of Western, with Bruce Dern’s Woody trawling across the redundant, snow-covered landscape of a Northern town. Woody is an ailing cowboy, a dementia-suffering old-timer who has his sights set on Nebraska. His aim: to collect the million-dollar cash prize bestowed unto him by a scamming marketing company. In a last gasp attempt to knock some sense into his father, David (Will Forte) endeavours to drive him there, hoping that the inevitable tragedy awaiting the end of their journey may enact in Woody a greater realisation of the world as it is.
Through Bob Nelson’s tidy script, Payne creates an atmosphere lighter than its subject suggests, one filled with moments of smart and understated humour. Most of these emanate from the bizarre, yet recognisable family dynamics the film balances upon, both between father and son and the larger family itself, played out through a superbly funny makeshift reunion. Elsewhere, June Squibb’s many one-liners as David’s cynical mother provide sustainable laughs throughout.
At this film’s core is the more serious note of the degradation of rural America and a longing for a time of greater honesty and truth. In Dern’s performance, one can find some of the great anti-heroes of American literature, most notably Arthur Miller’s Willy Loman, as a figure who just wants to be appreciated. Forte matches Dern’s brilliance with remarkable ease, providing a stunningly touching performance as a son wishing to reconnect with his father. Nebraska’s reliance upon simple, contained dialogue makes for some unfortunate areas of exposition, such as the unnecessary need to make Woody’s alcoholism appear in the most banal of conversations. But Payne’s restrained, metered style compensates, delivering a story which never seems to lag.
