Not since the windscreen mindscapes of Wim Wenders's Kings of the Road has the conjunction of motion sickness, modern living, and the struggles of overgrown boys seeking to finally attain the status of men seemed so moving — and so at pains to find a way to get moving at all.
As the strains of Yo La Tengo's dream-drift soundtrack and cinematographer Peter Sillen's high-def digi-vistas of roadside splendor increasingly blur together and as Mark and Kurt at last begin to haltingly immerse themselves in the baptismal fluids of Old Joy's promised land — the Bagby Hot Springs, a remote and rustic respite for body and soul nestled deep in the old-growth woods — Reichardt's film finally finds a way to cross the myriad bridges briefly glimpsed from Mark's Volvo windows as Old Joy's relatively brief but precisely calibrated screen time whizzes by. But if what you find once Old Joy finally reaches its destination seems neither precisely a sense of uplift or letdown, rest assured that's a carefully patterned part of Reichardt's picture too — a moment that seems neither an ending or a new beginning but yet another frozen teardrop in a world that's only just begun to thaw.
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For an interview with Old Joy writer Jon Raymond, go to Pixel Vision at www.sfbg.com/blogs/pixel_vision.