You Can Count On Me (2000)
Laura Linney, Mark Ruffalo, Rory Culkin; d. Kenneth Lonergan; A-

The more I see films the more I realize I love the ones that are set in small little towns. There's a certain intimacy and charm that you can't get with films set in the city. The small human experience is made more significant than it would be minimized below towering skyscrapers. The familiarity of the small town leaves way for much conflict, as humans are able to play off of each other as their individuality and the identities of others clash in a moral and emotional struggle. Of course, what makes the small town film more delicious is when there's a character from the city thrown in there to cause havoc.

The Christian ideals of the American small town and the demoralizing values of the city are at the center of the conflict in You Can Count On Me, a marvelous directorial debut by Kenneth Lonergan. But don't let that sentence fool you. This is no clash between the religious right and the liberal left, a sermon on film that preaches against the sinful sewage of the city or the rigid hypocrisy of the church, but a simple story of two people who differ greatly from each other and must find a common ground on which they can both peacefully reside.

Sammy Prescott (Laura Linney) is a single mother raising her eight year old son, Rudy (Rory Culkin), in her quiet, Episcopalian hometown in the Catskills. Terry Prescott (Mark Ruffalo) is her younger brother, a drug user and a wanderer who's been in and out of jail and work. After six months of no contact, Sammy finally gets a letter from Terry saying that he plans to visit her. Naturally, after not hearing from her brother in such a long time, Sammy is ecstatic. But as it always is with jailbird-brothers-who-live-in-the-city, he's not actually coming to visit, he's coming to borrow some money from his well-to-do sister to get himself (and a girl...friend) out of a bad situation (this situation isn't explained and doesn't need to be).

The money is merely the MacGuffin that gets the story rolling. The love the two siblings have for each other is put to the test as both battle their conflicting morals and personalities. Sammy is all for Christian ideals and family, while Terry stands for intellectualism and freedom from societal structures. But both are also two vessels of mind boggling but completely real human contradictions. Terry's quest for truth and freedom does not lead him to emotional or spiritual happiness, nor does Sammy's search for religious justification and romance lead her to true happiness.

In the middle of all this is Rudy, who, unlike other kid characters in other movies, has a multidimensional purpose in this film. The ways the two central characters differ from each other are shown greatly when it comes to how both behave around Rudy. Terry, the free spirit, takes Rudy out to play pool in a bar and freely drinks, smokes, and swears around him. Understandably as a mother Sammy is very rigid, strict, and concerned towards Rudy. She wants everything in his best interests and is successful in most - Except when it comes to finding Rudy a reliable father figure.

Like Terry's behavioral problems Sammy has a problem with men, a problem that is in clear opposition to the teachings of her church. Such a Middle American upbringing demands a proper family structure, which Sammy's sexual forays cannot provide. We see her in a hollow relationship with Mr. Nice Guy, Bob (Jon Tenney), and a passionate affair with her outrageously rigid and business oriented (and married) boss Brian (Matthew Broderick). She cannot commit herself to any of these relationships, just like she could not commit herself to a relationship to Rudy's father (which, as we see later on in the film, is completely understandable).

This glorious attention to detail of the human character is something completely rare in any form of cinema - Both mainstream and independent. What's also completely rare is the fact that You Can Count On Me takes no sides and makes no preachy comments about the characters. They are what they are, and that's why they clash. They must change not because they are wrong, but because they cannot live with each other and with themselves at the rate they are going.

For all this Kenneth Lonergan sits back and lets the action play out itself, which again is rare for a director to do. This is the right decision, of course. Any blatant and overstated directorial comment would completely ruin the effect of the film. Without any outside force telling us how we should think, we are drawn unrestrained into the worlds of these two characters. And what we see are not two characters on different ends of the spectrum but two characters teetering on the edge of right and wrong, basked in the same light.

The performances of Laura Linney, Mark Ruffalo, and the supporting cast are all remarkable, who flesh out all the human qualities of each and every one of the characters. These are probably the toughest roles to act out - Real people, not creations of Hollywood escapism. How do you play a person who could easily be your next door neighbor? The only one who truly has it easy is Broderick, whose seemingly absurd character is almost completely devoid of any characteristics of anyone I know. His was the only character with whom I really couldn't connect because of his theatrics.

Linney and Ruffalo completely inhibit their characters, making you believe in their authenticity. Each is a bundle of contradictions: Ruffalo is uninhibited yet restrained, Linney cool yet vulnerable. As confusing as this may sound, both actors wonderfully juggle these characteristics in one believable gray area. And as a cute Culkin placed in the role of the little kid, Rory is, believe it or not, completely tolerable, even good. He makes being at the center of a storm look quite easy.

What holds the film together is that it is completely realistic. There are no cinematic tricks, no plot conventions and clichés popular with this genre, but just a simple, engaging human drama. If there's one argument against realistic films, You Can Count On Me is an argument for them.

© Vert A Go Go Reviews 2002