Review of Leave No Trace
Our Father, Who Art in Hell
“After all, I have just one father. I want to make peace with him”
― Marvin Gaye’s words to a friend before returning to live with the elder Mr. Gaye, who eventually shot him dead.
“And now and then an ample tear trilled down her delicate cheek”
― King Lear, Act 4 Scene 3, description of Cordelia hearing of her father’s troubles, despite being banished by him.
Do those who rebel against the world have obligations to their beloved? This is the question posed by Debra Granik in Leave No Trace. It is a seemingly straightforward narrative about a cruel world, an idealistic father and a loving daughter. In fact the story is akin to a Russian nesting doll with each reveal challenging previous assumptions. True love meshes with hideous cruelty. Unbounded freedom morphs into a narcissistic prison. The unkind world is peopled with good souls. Everyone gets what they want, yet this is a tragedy.
The father and young daughter, Will and Thomasin, might be mistaken for a suburban family of highly skilled campers enjoying a weekend in the woods. In fact these are a pair of covert radicals eschewing all modern creature comforts and minimizing contact with the outside. The father, due to mental illness born of battle a tour of duty in the an army war zone, sees the world as “us and them.” Thomasin is hostage to him and his, uncompromising, dogma. There are constant camouflage drills, amongst other routines, to shield her from outsiders. It brings to mind the dystopian action-film Hannah, in which a hunted spy/assassin trains his tween daughter into being the ultimate fighting machine. That might sound cruel, but at least he’s preparing her to fight the system. Will has no capacity to lay groundwork for his daughter’s future. He lives looking over his shoulder with occasional respites between watches. The future is measured in hours. Conversations with his daughter about school, dating, vocation… are a luxury that are simply out of reach on this battlefield. The pressing everyday questions are: what will we eat? And where will we sleep? Which brings forth a larger query: what kind of monster would torture his young daughter with this lifestyle? The startling dualism of the film is that Granik is able to make him more than empathetic. Despite it all Thomasin is an educated, curious, wonderful person. The qualities might have emerged sui generis but her father appears to be a mentor. What about the mother?
One of the innovative aspects of this film is Granik’s parsimonious distribution of the backstory. There is an odd opaqueness that haunts the central figures. What happened when Will went to war? How did they end up in the woods? How did the mother pass? What was the progression of Will’s descent into madness? A lesser filmmaker would have given over the story to filling in the exposition. Granik’s whispers blurry answers. It’s a brilliant choice as it bring the audience into the mindset of Will. Everything is in the moment and plays out accordingly. The inevitable conflicts with the outside world are authentic as Will’s trauma feels akin to massive illustrations of the contumely of everyday American life. We do not flee to the woods but, given the state of affairs, many have had the fantasy.
Perhaps one of Will’s most endearing qualities is the strict adherence to being polite and seemingly cooperative. We feel his anguish as his world is crushed by the endless absurd demands of living conventionally. The social worker admits that Thomasin is far ahead academically but points out that school is more than socializing. Then the audience witnesses Will’s humiliation by being put through a battery of psych tests that evoke the worst excesses of modern institutional interaction. In Will’s mind socialization, being a good soldier, is at the root of his troubles. Will is not going to be a team player. He will not listen to phone trees, stand in line at the Motor Vehicles, haggle about a deliveries, take surveys, argue with insurance companies, banks, mortgage companies, landlords, school teachers, social workers, cops, government officials, friends, neighbors, strangers… He rejects all tenants of living as a connected American adult. Granik’s interesting take on Will’s obstinacy is to give the evil system a strange grace. This isn’t a malevolent One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest bureaucracy. The psych evaluation might be an intrusive demand from a heartless system , but the person administering it clearly cares about his charge. He is gentle and probably risks his own standing by bending the rules and giving Will a pass. This motif, the world is filled with compassionate people willing to help DESPITE the system, ironically plays throughout the film.
A man at war with everyone and everything encounters saints wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. Every step of the way each “helper” tries to lessen his load by giving him, by conventional standards, the keys to the kingdom. He is allowed to raise his daughter. He is given a job. He is given a home. He is courted by the locals. Yet he refuses all the benevolent coercion. He wants to be left alone; not literally, he needs his daughter. There’s the rub. It is not sanctioned to raise a teenage girl in complete isolation while foraging for supplies; not to mention involving her in other illegal activity. The father’s income is greatly supplemented by his illegal sale of his VA distributed medications. Once again the genius is Granik’s ability to have the audience cast a sympathetic eye on his struggle.
Perhaps we are cheering an uber-patriot who trumpets the very American “city on a hill” myth. Maybe we are siding with a mafioso who lives by his own code. Many of our heroes are outlaws who don’t wait on line.… they form their own. But then comes the challenge of Thomasin’ s journey. She is the opposite of the loner strongman, but equally compelling. She is the daughter of our dreams. In Will’s case his mental illness amplifies the common parental struggle of “letting go.” His battles, in his mind, will ALWAYS be hers. Thomasin, fortunately, has reached the age where she develops an unvarnished world-view. Sadly that means accepting hard truths about Will. Granik threads the needle in making everyone seem sympathetic when it would have been far easier to demonize.
Is more anger in order? Given the world Granik’s paints, the answer is, absolutely not. The film is consistent in being believably realistically, unrealistic. This is not the world we live in. This is illustrated by an online review from a young woman who was raised by a homeless, mentally ill, father.
I think it's absolutely wrong to attempt to manipulate the audience into emotionally enabling this man, and people like him, to continue inflicting his pain on others. - Charity Ava, online Amazon customer review of Leave No Trace.
The point is well taken. Ms. Ava’s pain is real but their is another side to the “emotionally enabling” accusation. Leave No Trace is a prose-poem about a father and daughter, rather than a heartfelt look at social justice issues. This doesn’t excuse the criticism but it’s important to appreciate the unorthodox motif. Granki’s artistry shows her to be not only a keen writer but a director who makes careful choices. Surely someone with this degree of sensitivity would acknowledge the omissions are purposeful in order not to cloud the narrative. Some of the unrealistic portrayals failed to convince. Despite brilliant casting, strong storytelling there is a odd “do-gooderness” about the supporting cast. Our two protagonists encounter uniformly supportive people; even amongst those charged with correcting “wrongs.” It is as if they live in Mayberry North Carolina instead of the darker edges of the Pacific Northwest. Misogyny and objectification are other taboos. Thomasin is an extraordinarily beautiful teenage girl and yet there is never any challenges with her navigating the plethora of strange people. At first glance it might seem de rigueur to explore this unfortunate aspect of every girl’s journey. In hind-sight, however,this hot button issue might have consumed the narrative. Granki gives us an idealization of how beautiful young women should be respectfully viewed in the world. It might offend some as a poor choice that downplays women’s struggles. It should, however, be understood as an artistic decision by someone who has done a great deal of reflection on how to present this narrative.
This is a solid film made by a steady hand. A blemish in the artistry is a lack of levity. A little treacle is needed to counter Will’s brimstone. We could have used more scenes such as Will viewing the church dance performance; or Thomasin viewing the man taking selfies on the train. The title is also somewhat foreboding, but cleverly chosen. “Leave No Trace” has the ring of a classic mystery or horror film. In a sense one might see this family saga in that light. The expression actually comes from an ecological ethos formed in the 50s that is rooted in setting a mindset to preserve our vanishing wilderness. It is incumbent on the visitor to avoiding marring the scenery with their detritus. Once again Granik does the opposite and delivers a film that makes the unpleasant human debris the center attraction. In relation to the unconscionable brutality that surrounds us this seemingly self-inflicted pain might seem trivial. Can this story rise to the sense of outrage one experiences in viewing the news? No. But films without overt blows can make it harder to forget. Perhaps we do ourselves a disservice when we amplify the horror to assuage our collective pain. The film Hannah, has slick fighting choreography and an innovative device of having a young girl playing Rambo’s part. But it is all a blur compared to Thomasin and Will’s struggles. Thomasin leaving behind two beloved small plastic horse statuettes in the refuge, as not to offend her Dad. The father hiding while in the thrall of a war-flashback; hiding his pain from others so he can preserve his job and stay with his daughter. In the end she knows he means well; he knows the moment has arrived. The next time someone bitterly disappoints I will try to recall Thomasin gently saying, “I know you would stay if you could.” All those small moments with these two broken people leave a an impression infinitely stronger than any of Hannah’s drop kicks. Thanks Granik for recognizing Thomasin and Will’s strengths, and Hannah and Rambo’s weakness. Action/adventure is for easy villains and callow heroes. This film is a bridge to the strengthening stillness of a walk in the forest during trouble times. This film shows us that the quietness is found inside, not out. You might not leave a trace, but you will be affected by the journey.
