The most important things in life happen between the words. Subterranean noise is often louder than dialogue. This is a truth we all experience, but it is challenging to pull off in film, particularly if the subterranean moments are small shifts in consciousness where the character (and audience) understands that nothing will be the same again. A film camera captures thought, and yet so many films seem to distrust this, their air filled with unnecessary dialogue, either exposition or explanation. India Donaldson’s “Good One” is extraordinary in so many ways, but its most distinctive quality is how much Donaldson and her trio of actors (James LeGros, Danny McCarthy, and Lily Collias) trust the subterranean, and allow it to do its work far beneath the surface, between the words.
Chris (Le Gros) and Matt (McCarthy) are lifelong friends, with a relationship like an old bickering married couple. Chris is the responsible one, but his marriage has ended and he’s in a state of unwelcome middle-aged upheaval. Matt is a failed actor, openly flailing with disappointment. His teenage son wants nothing to do with him. Chris’ 17-year-old daughter Sam (Collias) is a senior in high school, gearing up for college in the fall. She’s a good kid and excited about the future. She’s looking forward to a weekend hiking trip in the Catskills with her father, Matt, and Matt’s son. When Matt’s son refuses to go, Sam is without a peer to keep her company. It’s too late to back out.
The hike isn’t a casual afternoon walk. It’s a three-day affair, everyone carrying gear on their backs, hiking long distances over sometimes arduous terrain. Chris and Sam are practiced hikers. They’ve got all the rituals down. Matt is a buffoon. He’s wearing jeans. He packs inappropriately. He can’t set up his tent. Chris is rigid and critical. The dynamic between the friends feels like a habit more than anything else. Chris is perpetually irritated with Matt, while Matt cracks jokes. His lightheartedness is a thin veneer placed over misery so deep it’s practically existential. “I don’t know how I became so untethered,” he says in a naked moment.
We see all of this through Sam’s eyes. She is perceptive and thoughtful. When the two men ask for her opinion on their grown-up problems, she surprises them with her insight. Something’s “off” about all of this, though. Sam is 17 years old, but she’s still a kid. These guys are a lot to handle, and one of them is her dad. They forget she’s young, they forget that maybe getting tipsy and swapping stories about infidelity isn’t something she needs to see. What starts off as a nice time (albeit chaotic with all the bickering) quickly becomes not so nice. In fact, there’s a feeling in the air, more and more distinct as the film goes on, that Sam is not safe with these two men she’s known all her life.
What happened, though?
“Good One” is intriguing in its disinterest in explanations. The film’s refusal to “satisfy” an audience with easy explanations or even cathartic moments pulls you into its atmosphere, dragging you into the weird dynamic which grows more claustrophobic by the moment. Sam has her period and keeps leaving the path to put in a tampon, as Chris and Sam wait in the background, completely oblivious to her extra burden. She’s got this whole world going on they have no idea about. The period is an intriguing detail (all the details are intriguing in this beautiful film, including its evocative title), highlighting the biological difference, but also highlighting her isolation. The only women in the movie are back home. Sam is on her own.
I took a friend to the press screening, and we walked home, talking about it the whole way. There was so much to discuss, and I can’t help but think it’s because what it all “means” is left unsaid. Donaldson does not take the easy way out.
The majority of the film takes place outside. Cinematographer Wilson Cameron (who also directed two of Donaldon’s shorts) captures the lush greenery, the way the bodies move through it, the vistas. In some of the more intimate scenes, he utilizes very interesting framing where one head looms in the foreground, and another head peeks out from behind the blockage. The characters are crammed into the frame, but in each others’ way. The sound design is exquisite: the vivid sounds of rushing water, bugs, and birds take the place of dialogue. There are long sequences where we watch the characters hike, set up tents, break down their campsite. The rhythm is soothing, but underneath, things are curdling, shattering.
Most of the film happens on Collias’ face. She is an astonishing young actress, where every flicker of thought, discomfort, humor, and shock shows. Her face leads us. The subterranean shift is Sam’s, a tectonic plate moving far beneath the surface of her life, marking her indelibly. When Sam exits the forest, she’s not the same girl as when she went in. Everything has changed.
