"Wendy and Lucy" is perhaps the most interesting experiment on film of late - it presents a young woman's misfortunes through the camera lens (where most films rely on dialogue). The film's visual minimalism can be seen through the meticulous direction of Kelly Reichardt, who uses deliberate shots that narrate everything viewers need to know about a scene without insulting their intelligence. In this way, "Wendy and Lucy" is a strong film in terms of its visuals and because of the quiet sociological study it makes through the tragic story it has to tell.
Wendy Carroll (Michelle Williams) lives a nomadic existence on her way from Indiana to Alaska, where she hopes to restart her life with a satisfying and lucrative job. The film centers only on the time she spends in the Oregon portion of the trip, where everything hits the fan. In order to ration out her limited supply of money so the trip will run successfully, Wendy sleeps in her car each night. However, after spending the night in a Walgreens parking lot, a security guard wakes her early the next morning and forces her to leave the premises - but her car is dead. Furthermore, the mechanic is out for the day and Lucy, her ever-faithful dog, is hungry. Because she is nearly broke, Wendy tries to shoplift from a grocery store but is caught on her way out and spends the afternoon in jail. When she is released, she returns to the store to discover that Lucy is gone and spends the next several days searching for her companion. With the obstacles continuing to stack up against her, Wendy must recover her belongings so that she can go on.
I do not think I could have imagined this film without Michelle Williams. Having truly proven herself with her role in "Brokeback Mountain," she continues to firmly establish her talents in "Wendy and Lucy." The curious thing is that the film reveals barely anything about her character's life or past, but it is not important. Through the way Williams quietly, but powerfully becomes Wendy, viewers share in and actually comprehend her miserable existence.
Although some critics might stress the plot device of her Alaskan goal, I think it's unimportant. Wendy is going somewhere, but the goal actually does not matter - the whole film is an allegory for escape to somewhere, anywhere. Wendy's trip is motivated by a need to escape, and as the obstacles mount against her in Oregon, Wendy becomes more and more suffocated by entrapment. After all, she cannot go anywhere without her car or best friend.
Besides this allegory of escape, the film also stresses humanism, quietly opining on loving others that need our help. This, in turn, challenges moral definitions of right and wrong. Is it right or wrong that Andy the grocery store clerk has to be a hero, "making an example" of Wendy because she did the "wrong thing" in order to survive? Is it right or wrong that the security guard impulsively offers what he can to Wendy because he sees a poor soul? The answers are up to you, viewers.
Deliberately paced, "Wendy and Lucy" might come off boring to some, but the eighty-minute runtime should keep audiences satisfied. In any case, the visual power and narrative resonance of the film should be enough to keep "Wendy and Lucy" worthwhile.
"Wendy and Lucy" is playing at The Belcourt Theatre.