Review of Wendy and Lucy (2008) by Grant P — 09 May 2009

On the surface, there's not much to the construction of Kelly Reichardt's Wendy and Lucy, a decidedly minimalist filmmaking exercise (as it unfurls in a lofty 75-minute version of a 10-minute "Hollywood" movie). Wendy and Lucy merely studies a woman's pursuit of Ketchikan, Alaska, to improve her past and current living situation. However, when the term "minimalist" is applied to this work, it becomes rather slippery, because the director's approach is simultaneously maximal and minimalist. Reichardt documents Wendy's every movement with consistently long dolly shots of her nomadically wandering from one place to the next often in search of her only companion, Lucy, a Golden Retriever mix. Because backstory and editing are minimal and musical score is virtually nonexistent, the "minimalist" term is applied, but the film's emotional resonance and character documentation are far from nominal.

An independent film like Wendy and Lucy projects an elevated level of authenticity as specifically indicated by the director herself. As a style of cinema, Italian Neorealism (with its on-location shooting, non-professional actors, and narrative aesthetic) serves as a major influence. With the DVD release, Reichardt has included several short experimental film supplements by fellow Bard College colleagues (Peter Hutton, Peggy Ahwesh, Les LeVeque, and Jacqueline Goss) to provide a sort of an indirect commentary and outline on the nature of her own work. Although Wendy and Lucy never approaches the avant-garde of the short films provided, it is far removed from the bloated dynamism and absolute explanation usually associated with mainstream cinema.

The only music written for the film comes from the mind of Will Oldham (a.k.a. Bonnie 'Prince' Billy) as Wendy's muted, intermittent whistling. This whistling actually serves as the film's centerpiece for the expression of optimism. So much of the film is buried in the series of small yet disastrous events and the looming themes of America's current economic hardships, and Wendy's brief whistling becomes increasingly therapeutic (or a happy distraction) in that regard. Her short-lived kinship with the Wallgreens security guard also introduces a warm sympathy contrary to the intense indifference and harshness of her environment.