Strong and Dry

Winter’s Bone starts out with a laid back Missouri porch tune that relaxes you into your seat; and from that point on, it never lets you go. By the time it was over, I was humming Ray LaMontagne tunes in my mind, feeling the evening breeze splash over my hair.

     Set in the heart of the Ozark woods, Winter’s Bone follows seventeen-year old Ree Dolly(Jennifer Lawrence), who is struggling to care for her family. She soon finds out that her vanished father has put their land on jail bond, and sets out to find him. The story that follows is a pocket epic, sprinkled with deception, and driven by Ree’s downbeat determination to unravel the mystery surrounding her father. She meets strange characters, all of whom are a part of a circle of drug dealers, and journeys deep into the forest, though she returns home at the end of every journey. In the time when she is not investigating, she is teaching her little siblings to survive; how to cook, how to shoot rifles, how to hunt, how to be respectful, when to hold on, and when to let go.

        Writer/Director Debra Granik’s vision for this film takes flight with a clean crispness that blends the majesty of the Ozarks’ rolling plains with the snarling tree branches of its forests. Sound mixer James Demer’s emphasis of the trail mix of dirt and gravel crunches keeps the audience trudging along the same path as Ree, and adds a base to the dry atmosphere set up by Granik. Though the story is an epic at heart, it is told with the same inflection and grace as a lullaby before bed.

           There are many unspoken words and off-stage events in Winter’s Bone. Ree’s father is never seen, but the ambiguity of his character informs the twist and turns in the investigation. His past actions leave Ree with furious enemies and devoted friends, all of whom are hesitant to help or stop her.

    Jennifer Lawrence turns in an on-point interpretation of the passive-aggressive Ree, anchoring the film with a performance most actors will envy. She butters Ree with a rich country smoothness that ends in the serrated blade of her gritty determination. Her hawk-like stare freezes the audiences in their seats.

          I’ve never lived in the country before. The closest I’ve ever been are sleepovers at friends’ houses from Elyria to Chesterland(Ohio). At times, I wonder why I used to make the journey out there so much, even though it cost me a hefty share in gas and energy. It’s because there’s something peaceful out there, a closeness that city folk don’t really experience until everything around them is quiet(which is rare). Once you journey through the woods, be it on foot or in a car, you never come out the same. Some of the greatest stories ever told have been told at least partially in a forest. Granik’s film is as much about the Ozark woods as it is about Ree.

        The characters in the story reflect this. They are as close-knit as the trees, letting that closeness guide their common sense. The cast plays their roles passively, substituting drama with juxtaposition that highlights the intricate workings of their strained but hospitable relations. Though some of the names, like Teardrop and Thump, will certainly make any city viewers laugh, the culture that is reflected in every shot is bare-boned and voluntarily vulnerable, daring the audience to judge it.

        Overall, a simple, steady little tale about the Ozarks and its “bread and butter” natives.  

         Ciao.