Cast: Janet McTeer, Kimberly Brown, Gavin O'Connor, Jay O. Sanders, Lois Smith, Laurel Holloman
Director: Gavin O'Connor
Producer: Greg O'Connor
Screenplay: Gavin O'Connor and Angela Shelton, based on a story by Shelton
Cinematography: Dan Stoloff
Music: David Mansfield
U.S. Distributor: Fine Line Features
Those who have seen the Wayne Wang's recently released Anywhere But Here will notice a number of similarities between that movie and Gavin O'Connor's debut feature, Tumbleweeds. Both films combine elements of a road picture with a tale of mother/daughter bonding. Both feature children who are in many ways more mature than their elders. And both are characterized by strong, effective performances by the lead actresses. However, despite the synergy between these two movies, they are not clones. The differences identify Tumbleweeds and Anywhere But Here as unique projects, and make them worth viewing independently for their diverse approaches to comparable stories.
Tumbleweeds opens with a scene of domestic discord. Following a furious argument with her husband, Mary Jo Walker (Janet McTeer) grabs her 12 year-old daughter, Ava (Kimberly Brown), and heads west. Together, mother and child embark on the latest leg of a seemingly-endless adventure that has seen Mary Jo marry and flee four times - she has an uncanny knack for picking the wrong kinds of men, and, when the relationships go sour (as they seemingly must), she gets out. The next destination for the nomadic pair is Southern California, where Ava discovers a passion for acting (playing Romeo in a school play version of "Romeo and Juliet") and finally begins to feel at home. Her sense of belonging is endangered, however, when Mary Jo embarks upon another love affair - this time with a truck driver named Jack (Gavin O'Connor). And, although Jack seems to be a good-natured, attentive man, Ava awaits the inevitable explosion with a mixture of trepidation and resignation.
The strength of O'Connor's movie, and the reason it stands above the continuum of the many similar-yet-lesser efforts, is the careful attention paid to character development and relationship building. O'Connor goes to great lengths to ensure that the bond between Mary Jo and Ava is sculpted in such a way that the audience immediately sympathizes with both individuals and recognizes the deep and powerful nature of the ties that bind them. Unlike in Anywhere But Here, where mother and daughter are constantly at odds, Mary Jo and Ava have a more harmonious relationship. Even though Ava craves stability and Mary Jo shuns restraint, there's very little contention between them - they are inseparably connected by a past of shared tribulations. In fact, there are many times when they act more like sisters than a mother and daughter. For instance, in one of the film's best scenes, when Mary Jo teaches Ava how to kiss (using an apple as the practice object), there's a refreshing sense of fun and openness in their interaction.
A significant share of the credit for Tumbleweeds' success must be given to Janet McTeer and Kimberly Brown. Both give performances that are at a consistently high level, with no evidence of artiface or awkwardness, and the actors bring a layer of complexity to their on-screen relationship that is not found in the screenplay. McTeer, a somewhat familiar face who has had supporting roles in a number of recent movies (such as the 1992 TV version of Wuthering Heights and 1995's Carrington), shows that she's capable of carrying a film. Brown, in her first feature role, acquits herself admirably, avoiding such common pitfalls as overacting and underemoting. Other participants include the director in a secondary part as Jack, Laurel Holloman (The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls In Love) as Mary Jo's best friend, and Jay O. Sanders as a gentle widower who befriends Ava.
As far as comparisons with Anywhere But Here are concerned, it's a safe bet that anyone who enjoyed that movie will appreciate Tumbleweeds. (The reverse is also true.) In many ways, this is not a conventional "chick flick." It is heartfelt, but does not rely on emotional manipulation to sway an audience. We feel for the characters because they seem real, not because the script has us reaching for the nearest box of Kleenexes. O'Connor and his actresses keep Tumbleweeds on the right course as its plot veers through a minefield of familiar situations: failed marriages, abusive menfolk, and teenage rebellion. In the end, the story may be about characters who are blown around by the winds of fate, but the way in which it is presented represents a solidly grounded effort.
© 1999 James Berardinelli