May 14, 1990 Monday
Editing, directing ruin good screeplay
FILM REVIEW THE LONG ROAD HOME
By: Ray Conlogue
May 14, 1990
Directed by William Johnston
Screenplay by Dan Datree
Starring Denis Forest, Kelly Rowan
The Long Road Home may well have been "one of the best unproduced scripts
in the (Canadian) marketplace," as the just-released film's publicity
claims, but there is no way of knowing that from the dreadful mishmash
that has finally reached the screen.
The Long Road Home started out as what might have been an important
film. Jay Teitel wrote a screenplay about a young Harvard law student,
circa 1969, who takes a job in an Ontario summer camp while making up his
mind whether to dodge the Vietnam draft. The main dramatic conflict was to
have concerned an orphaned 12-year-old boy named Ronald. This emotionally
crippled kid attaches himself to the would-be dodger, Michael Posen, and
the two of them together come to terms with the problem of courage.
I say "was to have concerned" because Teitel's name is no longer
associated with the film, and it no longer centrally concerns Ronald,
whose masochistic catchphrase "shoot me!" was the film's original title.
In fact, the meat-cleaver editing of the film leaves matters so confused
that the show is half over before even an attentive viewer is likely to
notice the existence of a relationship between Michael and Ronald.
Our time instead is occupied with choppy scenes which introduce a neo-
fascist camp director, Grubner (Sean Hewitt), a sadistic swimming
instructor, Barry Berger (Barclay Hope), and the camp slut, Bayla. It is
an indication both of the acting talent that has been wasted (Bayla is
played by the wonderful Catherine Disher) and the mayhem wreaked on the
script that Bayla's opening line to Michael is "did you know it's true
that Jewish girls give great head?"
What at one time might have been a series of emblematic characters
representing various forms of weakness and evil have been reduced to
Animal House caricatures. Director William Johnston must share the credit
for this, as well as for consistently inept editing (he shares that credit
with Judy Krupanszky). A number of scenes finish with elegiac shots of
characters in thoughtful poses, usually against a stunning landscape -
which last for about one second before being brutally blacked out.
The combination of hamfisted directing and jittery editing is manifest
everywhere. Michael (who is played with some grace despite the numbing
context by Denis Forest) meets a counsellor named Cynthia (Kelly Rowan)
who thinks herself politically sophisticated. One of their early scenes is
in a wrecked Pontiac (it suddenly appears without any explanation or
setup) where the radio is tuned to a francophone station. Of course
Michael assumes she understands it (she's Canadian, eh?) and of course she
doesn't. They have a couple more brief encounters where she lectures him
on how to be a draft dodger, and then - just when we are convinced of the
indifference and obnoxiousness of both characters - he makes a pass at
her. There is a torrid kiss up against a log pillar, and then - what else?
- blackout. No further reference to this incipient romance occurs for the
balance of the movie.
This problem of filmus interruptus occurs so consistently that it is
clear neither the director nor the credited scriptwriter, Dan Datree, has
a clue how to get the story underway. They flail about with exposition for
a while, and then leap grasshopper-like to some further point in the
action where they flail about a while longer; followed by another leap,
and so on.
But even the exposition is poorly done. Characters mumble a line or two
of establishing dialogue whose meaning is not pointed up visually, or is
done so badly that we can't understand the point. Michael, for instance,
meets the crucial character of young Ronald hiding in an outhouse. He
alludes to something significant at Ronald's feet, and then we are shown
it. It looks like a spiderweb on a stick, and obviously signifies a deep
spiritual bonding which has occurred between the two, even though the
hapless viewer hasn't a clue what it is.
(This does not, by the way, take away anything from Gareth Bennett's
lovely performance of Ronald, which is one of the two best things in the
movie: the other being Vic Sarin's stunning and painterly cinematography).
Here we have a set of Jewish stereotypes marching in lockstep with
Canadian stereotypes, to the general embarrassment of all concerned.
The fact that there is earnestness, if not seriousness, behind all this
does not palliate matters. Are the skills of filmwriting and directing
really so arcane that Telefilm and the OFDC, which mainly financed this
movie, cannot find better properties?
Copyright 1990 Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. and its licensors
All Rights Reserved