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Tully
There's an unsavory superiority complex prevalent in much of pop culture today; re-enforced by American cinema, that the majority of people who live outside of the few major cities in the United States are somehow dull, dim or unenlightened. Even worse, if they come from anywhere remotely rural, the prevalent depictions rely on exaggerated stereotypes that encourage us to laugh at local "color" or pity how desperate each inhabitant is to flock to the big city on the first passing train.
Those clichés are dispelled beautifully in the new film Tully, a heartland family story of two motherless young brothers, raised by their father on a farm in rural Nebraska. Tully (Anson Mount) is the outgoing, aggressive town heartthrob, while young Earl (Glenn Fitzgerald) is his polar opposite, soft-spoken and hesitant. They spend their summer days working on the farm with their father (Bob Burrus), and their summer nights at the local pub.
And though they have very little in common but a deep bond of brotherly love, they both share strong feelings for a childhood family friend, Ella (played by the remarkable Julianne Nicholson). Over the course of one summer, the family is tested and changed by the emergence of long-buried secrets and ghosts of the past, family divisions and reconciliations, the bittersweetness of first love and the tragedy of death.
And though Tully is set in the quiet heart of the country, it is by no means a story of down-home charm and local-yokel hijinks. A subtle ode to love, family and independence, Tully is a film that, while composed of a series of gem-like, understated scenes, is unmistakably an American epic. And it's a film of low-key performances, genuine feeling and uncommon sensitivity.
We've recently seen a glut of films detailing the teenage rite-of-passage in Manhattan, among them Tadpole and Igby Goes Down. In each of those films, the protagonists are jaded, selfish cynics. They speak in voices that are so weighed down with icy irony and distance that you can barely believe they - or their struggles - have any connection to reality. As a rite-of-passage, coming-of-age story, Tully is refreshingly absent of cynicism and the story is infused with sincerity that's moving.
Director Hilary Birmingham, who co-wrote the script with Matt Drake, adapting a story from Tom McNeal, has populated Tully with characters so likeable and interesting that it makes the struggles of most movies' loathsome urban teens - prep schools, disconnected parents, hollow love affairs - seem dramatically unsatisfying. These people - Tully, Earl, their father and Ella - are a group of smart individuals with good values and even better hearts. And though their town may be small, their issues and decisions are anything but.
There are no superfluous or uninteresting characters or subplots in Tully. You can easily imagine that an entire film could be made about any one of them. Each of the four leads effectively mines the rich dimensions that connect them to love, family and identity.
Anson Mount gives a nuanced performance as Tully, Jr. When we first see him in the film, he's all country-boy, macho swagger. We think we know his type - but as the film evolves and Tully experiences first love and learns the secrets of his family's past, Mount deftly handles the building complexities.
As sweet and simple as she looks, Ella, as played by Julianna Nicholson, is a fusion of the radiantly freckled girl-next-door and an appealing direct and modern young woman. Glenn Fitzgerald, as Earl, the softer, more contemplative of the two brothers, has some sweet energy and moving moments near the end of the film. And Bob Burrus as Tully Coates, Sr., seems so natural in his delivery that he inhabits his character more than plays it.
Technically, the cinematography is elegantly simple, suggesting an authentic sense of time and place. The human drama plays out against a stunning backdrop of corn fields framed by the billowing clouds amidst a clear blue sky.
Tully is a complete experience as a film. It's a simple film, but its poetic tone, likable characters and moving family drama are mounted with great feeling. And the meaning of the closing shot of the film is so perfect it breaks your heart with its uplift. Not to be missed.
102 Minutes
Not Rated
Adult Language
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