'Wendy and Lucy'
Starts Feb. 13
Main Art Theatre, Royal Oak
Nothing's blatantly queer about a broke woman's financial struggles in this hit economy, but therein lies the strength of "Wendy and Lucy." Wendy's as vague as a night of drinking, and by the end of this indie downer, we still don't know much about the film's heroine. But that's the point. She's the face of millions of people, exponentially increasing as the economy does the opposite.
Michelle Williams as Wendy, who has to make tragic decisions just to survive, drives this near-perfect, minimalist, universal tale of trying times and the limitations of mankind. As the frumpy, haggard-looking protagonist, Williams, carrying several queer-flick creds ("But I'm a Cheerleader," "If These Walls Could Talk 2" and "Brokeback Mountain"), gives the drifter an every-woman (or man) sensibility, a quality that stays with us long after the crushing closing scene. Stoic and only cracking a half-smile when looking at her sole companion, dog Lucy, we immediately feel for Wendy, who tallies her cash in a ledger and stalls in Oregon en route to Alaska, where she has a vague promise of a job.
Even when she shoplifts a few groceries, leaving Lucy tied up outside, we sympathize with her desperation. Returning to the store after her arrest, Lucy is gone, prompting a distraught Wendy, along with a kind security guard (Walter Dalton), to go on a draining search for her lost friend. The film offers scrapes of insight into Wendy; a phone call to her no-good sister reveals how much of a loner she actually is, and her fishy eagerness to get to Alaska, of all places, for a job that's not even secured questions her real motives.
Her still look through most of "Wendy and Lucy" – the one we've seen on the dozens of homeless folks we've passed by – is overwhelmingly emotive, only illuminating when Lucy, who wholly ups the emotional ante, is around. There's little going on outside of Wendy, but even the airy desolation of the cinematography speaks to us, constantly posing this question: What will happen to her and Lucy?
What does happen hits hard, and director Kelly Reichardt's caustically relevant film – have a few tissues handy for the end – is a haunting portrait of human suffering. And Williams, in an underappreciated role, pulls it off as realistically as the next lonely drifter to ask you for a few dollars. A-
