Keane (Lodge Kerrigan, USA 2004, 93mins)
LONDON FILM FESTIVAL REVIEW
In this compelling drama about a young man’s grief and suffering over the purported abduction of his six-year old daughter from New York’s Port Authority station, Lodge Kerrigan returns to some of the thematic elements in his first feature, Clean,Shaven (1994), which was about a schizophrenic man in search of his daughter. Keane is an intense, compassionate and intelligent study of grief, loss and mental illness.
We are plunged immediately into the drama from the opening shot of the film. We first meet William Keane (Damian Lewis) desperately searching for his little girl, who, William claims, disappeared from the station – presumably kidnapped – some months previously. William is beside himself with grief; he obsessively tries to work out the exact minute that the incident took place – that precise moment we are lead to believe changed the course of his life irreversibly. William returns to the station with ritualistic compulsion. In his confused and disturbed state of mind, he seeks comfort first in the fantasy that he can change the events of time by recreating the excruciating moment when he realised his child was missing, and secondly, that by repeating the experience over and over again, he will eventually break through the pall of grief, guilt and anguish and come to terms with his loss. But all he succeeds in doing is setting up a vicious circle he is incapable of breaking.
We can see from the outset that this is a person that exists on the margins of society. The commuters in the station treat him with standard urban indifference. He’s just one of scores of thousands of sad loners, probably homeless, that they come across every morning and every evening as they make their way to and from work in the city. Because we’re thrust in a near-claustrophobic relation to William’s reality, initially we’re lead to believe that his deranged state is, understandably, a result of his unfathomable grief. But gradually the validity of William’s story becomes increasingly under question.
William is given a brief respite from the loneliness and isolation of his life when he meets Lynn Bedik (Amy Ryan) and her 7-year old daughter Kira (Abigail Breslin), who are temporary residents of the same run down motel as William. Lynn is hard up for cash, and William, enchanted by Kira and genuinely touched by Lynn’s circumstances, lends her $100 to help her out of her immediate financial pressures. Lynn’s almost automatic and utter trust in this complete stranger does beggar belief – particularly when she entrusts William – whom she’s only known for a couple of days – to look after her child overnight while she goes in search of her husband who is seeking work and accommodation in upstate New York. But we go with it because it brings the narrative tension and ambiguity that has slowly been building to a resounding head. We wish William to have his chance of redemption, but equally we are unsure of where the situation will lead because William is suddenly confronted with a moral dilemma and we’re not too sure that with his fragile mental state he will be able to act responsibly.
Kerrigan keeps William in the frame the whole time. The film is shot entirely by handheld camera and it is lit mostly by the available light from, largely, real locations. Additionally, each scene feels as if it taking place in real time, which gives us access into how William experiences the world about him. Kerrigan’s intention no doubt is to heighten the emotional impact and secure a closer identification with William’s plight. This all makes sounds sense, and with an affecting performance from Damian Lewis, we are unquestionably drawn into William’s story. Yet despite the verité technique and the integrity of the script, we never really experience the emotional punch you’d expect. Instead, we remain resolutely detached and end up as observers of William’s drama instead of feeling it.
It is a testament to Steven Soderburgh’s commitment (he acts as Executive Producer) to financing more challenging topics and film techniques to broaden the horizons of mainstream cinema and in this respect, and for the sheer courage and humanity towards his subject, Lodge Kerrigan’s Keane does not disappoint.
Review by Erica Rosen
In this compelling drama about a young man’s grief and suffering over the purported abduction of his six-year old daughter from New York’s Port Authority station, Lodge Kerrigan returns to some of the thematic elements in his first feature, Clean,Shaven (1994), which was about a schizophrenic man in search of his daughter. Keane is an intense, compassionate and intelligent study of grief, loss and mental illness.
We are plunged immediately into the drama from the opening shot of the film. We first meet William Keane (Damian Lewis) desperately searching for his little girl, who, William claims, disappeared from the station – presumably kidnapped – some months previously. William is beside himself with grief; he obsessively tries to work out the exact minute that the incident took place – that precise moment we are lead to believe changed the course of his life irreversibly. William returns to the station with ritualistic compulsion. In his confused and disturbed state of mind, he seeks comfort first in the fantasy that he can change the events of time by recreating the excruciating moment when he realised his child was missing, and secondly, that by repeating the experience over and over again, he will eventually break through the pall of grief, guilt and anguish and come to terms with his loss. But all he succeeds in doing is setting up a vicious circle he is incapable of breaking.
We can see from the outset that this is a person that exists on the margins of society. The commuters in the station treat him with standard urban indifference. He’s just one of scores of thousands of sad loners, probably homeless, that they come across every morning and every evening as they make their way to and from work in the city. Because we’re thrust in a near-claustrophobic relation to William’s reality, initially we’re lead to believe that his deranged state is, understandably, a result of his unfathomable grief. But gradually the validity of William’s story becomes increasingly under question.
William is given a brief respite from the loneliness and isolation of his life when he meets Lynn Bedik (Amy Ryan) and her 7-year old daughter Kira (Abigail Breslin), who are temporary residents of the same run down motel as William. Lynn is hard up for cash, and William, enchanted by Kira and genuinely touched by Lynn’s circumstances, lends her $100 to help her out of her immediate financial pressures. Lynn’s almost automatic and utter trust in this complete stranger does beggar belief – particularly when she entrusts William – whom she’s only known for a couple of days – to look after her child overnight while she goes in search of her husband who is seeking work and accommodation in upstate New York. But we go with it because it brings the narrative tension and ambiguity that has slowly been building to a resounding head. We wish William to have his chance of redemption, but equally we are unsure of where the situation will lead because William is suddenly confronted with a moral dilemma and we’re not too sure that with his fragile mental state he will be able to act responsibly.
Kerrigan keeps William in the frame the whole time. The film is shot entirely by handheld camera and it is lit mostly by the available light from, largely, real locations. Additionally, each scene feels as if it taking place in real time, which gives us access into how William experiences the world about him. Kerrigan’s intention no doubt is to heighten the emotional impact and secure a closer identification with William’s plight. This all makes sounds sense, and with an affecting performance from Damian Lewis, we are unquestionably drawn into William’s story. Yet despite the verité technique and the integrity of the script, we never really experience the emotional punch you’d expect. Instead, we remain resolutely detached and end up as observers of William’s drama instead of feeling it.
It is a testament to Steven Soderburgh’s commitment (he acts as Executive Producer) to financing more challenging topics and film techniques to broaden the horizons of mainstream cinema and in this respect, and for the sheer courage and humanity towards his subject, Lodge Kerrigan’s Keane does not disappoint.
Review by Erica Rosen
posted by Barnaby at 5:58 PM
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