Review of Gerry (2002) by David H — 15 Aug 2010

Roughly based on the true events of two men who became lost in Rattlesnake Canyon, New Mexico (and the first of a trilogy from director Gus Van Sant regarding real life stories of death and murder), "Gerry" is an independent picture of stark surrealism that is nevertheless doomed by its diminutive depth. Focusing on its only two characters (Casey Affleck and Matt Damon, who co-wrote with Van Sant), both of whom share the name Gerry, this film is a rage of visually sumptuous monotony, which, with each passing second, grows more tiresome and unpleasant.

It opens to a long, silent car ride that the Gerrys take through the desert hills on route to a wilderness trail, from which they naturally stray. As simple as that, the film has its plot: two idiots veer off of a desert trail and get lost, both on a lonely crash-course toward imminent death. And yet company is all they offer each other. They seem distant to one another -- they speak seldom and continue in their mostly quiet quest without the slightest hint of compassion -- making them a farfetched throw for the audience's care or interest. They have literally TWO complete conversations during the film -- one about how Affleck's Gerry conquered Thebes, Egypt, presumably in a video game; the other about how to get Affleck's Gerry down from a 15 ft. rock that he'd scrambled up in order to scout out the location of Damon's Gerry -- both of which carry little relevance and miss an opportunity to inform the audience of either character, neither of whom we ever learn anything about.

And that's "Gerry"'s downfall: despite no obstacles or impeding filler scenes, it never finds means to introduce its characters. For 100 minutes I sat, growingly impatient, waiting for the film to initiate its purpose. And it wasn't until the film's conclusion (which I had been yearning for since mid-way through) that I realized that its purpose, with minimal regards to existentialism, had been instigated long ago, and that it was just too subtle, too vague to be taken for value. Both Affleck and Damon offer performances that are rich with fear and uncertainty, but their acts are equaled, even overcome, by the feeling that with their characters' loss comes no significant harm. As an audience, we feel as though no one will miss them, for they never give us any reason to believe that there are others of importance in their lives.

"Gerry" is a heartbreaking motion picture, but it is precisely so for reasons that are imprecise. It is a lackluster journey through the vast, uncompromising desert terrain when we want it to be -- and it very well could have been -- a journey through two young men's minds -- which, under the wing of Van Sant, could and would have been far more enthralling (see "My Own Private Idaho"). "Gerry" is, in the end, what it films for over an hour-and-a-half: an overlong, awkward silence. Though its beauty may be alluring, it's a whirlwind of hollowness that can be categorized only as a failed attempt at ultra-modern art and a dreary waste of time.