By morning light

Lucy Fowler (Ashley Judd) awakens in a strange motel bed, hungover, as the sun caresses the hilltops in a small, southern town. She dresses quickly and attempts to sneak out the door, but not before the slumbering man awakens and tries to stop her. The scene simmers on the edge of erupting as we wait for something awful to happen.

My first thought upon viewing Come Early Morning, the directorial debut of Joey Lauren Adams, was, "She gets it." Hollywood has a way of knowing what it thinks small towns look and feel like but often veers way off course. Adams (of Chasing Amy fame), creates a simple, true representation of small-town living. There are no overall-wearing, toothless rednecks spitting tobacco here; instead, Adams colors in simple brush strokes a world of ordinary, working-class folks who sometimes seek ways to dull the mundane or the painful.

Lucy's method is through lots of alcohol and one-night stands. By day, she is a functional and astute assistant to Owen, played with fatherly aplomb by Stacy Keach. When working time is done, however, she is quick to find a barstool to sit on and a beer to nurse. Lucy meets Cal (Jeffrey Donovan), a strapping young man new to town. Cal attempts to woo Lucy, who isn't used to dates and dances; she's more of the love 'em and leave 'em type. There is a touching moment when the two are alone at Cal's after a night of drinking. As she passionately and clumsily kisses Cal, he stops and asks if she's ever kissed someone sober. This pivotal question begins a turn from within, where Lucy begins questioning not only her present habits but her future goals. We quickly see, though, that it will take more than a sweet cowboy to clear out the cobwebs in the dark corners of Lucy's life.

Her desperate attempts to connect with her distant father (Scott Wilson) culminate in a heartbreaking scene involving his guitar. Few words are spoken but with great performances, such as this one, we don't need words. Other story threads involve family members of varying craziness that, thanks to this new Lucy, she will attempt to face instead of running out the door when sunlight breaks.

The script, also written by Adams, is a beautiful, simple study in character. There are no collisions or aliens here. The acting is top notch, especially Judd. While a few other actors manage to soak up a brief bit of light, including Keach and Tim Blake Nelson as Uncle Tim, most are simply sounding boards for Judd's crisp performance. It is Judd who commands our attention. Her nuanced performance reminds us why films can be so much more than fast cars and box-office totals.

Purty mouths and rubber vests

While new-to-DVD films around the world keep my queueing finger busy, I often find a moment to watch an older film I haven't seen. Sometimes I'm delightfully surprised (Grey Gardens), and sometimes, well, there's Deliverance.

The story follows four men who all fall along the manly scale somewhere between "ultimate fighter" and "florist." These citified gents from Atlanta set off on a conoeing adventure down a river which will soon be flooded, along with the surrounding land which is inhabited by what I can only describe as mountain folk.

The group is led by the uber-macho Lewis Medlock (Burt Reynolds), followed by Ed Gentry (Jon Voight), Drew Ballinger (Ronny Cox), and Bobby Trippe (Ned Beatty). The latter is lovingly referred to as "fatty" by Medlock. From the beginning, it is clear Medlock is the alpha dog. The others find him a little dangerous, especially Trippe. The four set out on the journey unaware of the horror they will soon encounter.

There is a touching scene toward the beginning when, while attempting to find a local to drive their cars to a point at the end of the journey, the boys come across a young man whom we must assume is a product of inbreeding. Ballinger, who has brought his guitar along for the ride, begins picking. Before long, we hear a banjo off-screen, matching Ballinger note for note. This, of course, is the infamous "Dueling Banjos" song that will forever be associated with those aforementioned mountain folk. We quickly realize that Ballinger will play the voice of reason as he excitedly keeps up with the boy.

The tension mounts as they navigate through rocky terrain and angry rivers. The most frightening and disturbing moment is that other infamous scene in which Trippe is molested by one of two wayward mountain men that have stumbled upon he and Gentry. Medlock arrives, a little too late, killing one of the mountain men while the other runs off. It is at this point that the film gains momentum. The exciting sabbatical turns into a race to reach the end before their crime, along with the shadowy forest and what it holds, catches up with them.

As a cautionary tale, the film works. Just because these men possess an education, running cars, and running water, gives them little right to pompously tread and spit where they are likely unwelcome. I was, of course, reminded of Native Americans and the English who brought them, among other things, the cherished gifts of Christianity and disease. At one point I even expected a weeping Indian to stand amongst a pile of trash. Alas, it never materialized.

In the end, however, I simply couldn't get past Reynolds' way-over-the-top performance. Ever brooding, he would offer silly insight in quick, catchphrase blips. When his spirit was finally broken, his character arc complete, I didn't buy it. Perhaps it was the dating of the film. Maybe in 1972, this was fresh and new. Today, however, I just saw another film with tanned biceps and a tight rubber vest.