Review: Mean Creek/The United States of Leland

It seems that, once again, I've managed to see two movies back to back with very similar themes, having no idea what either movie was about before watching. The other time was when I received Traffic and Trainspotting from Netflix at the same time, which, unbeknownst to me, both had a central theme of drugs.

This time the two films are Mean Creek and The United States of Leland. The shared central theme, at its root, is human nature. Both films involve people who do horrible, wretched things, and both films attempt to compel the audience to view these people from a different angle than traditionally. They are not painted as common criminals -- as if there is such a thing. They are not painted as bad people -- as if "bad" is an inherent quality. The people in this film are individuals just like the rest of us -- to the extent that anyone can truly be like someone else -- who make mistakes. Who fuck up, who do bad things. Things that, perhaps, we would have done too, had we been in their shoes.

At this point I should provide fair warning that the proceeding will contain "spoilers," especially of Mean Creek. In actuality, what I plan on giving away is extremely predictable, and the knowledge of it won't truly spoil much of anything, but nevertheless, if you're one of those people, like me, who prefers to know as little as possible about a movie before watching it, come back and read this after you've seen the film.

Mean Creek is about six kids who, at first glance at the script, might seem like the stereotypical, one-dimensional characters you've already seen in lots of movies. There's George (Josh Peck), the bully; Sam (Rory Culkin), the victim; Rocky (Trevor Morgan), the victim's protective big brother; Marty (Scott Mechlowicz), the trailer-park, daddy-left-me-and-mommy-drinks-too-much troubled kid; Clyde (Ryan Kelley), the most-likely target for being picked on within the group of friends; and, just for kicks, Millie (Carly Schroeder), Sam's sort-of girlfriend. George is the older fat kid who keeps getting held back in Middle School and picks a smaller cute kid (Sam) to kick the shit out of. Big bro gathers together the group of friends and decides to get revenge on the bully, only to find that -- dun dun dun -- he's just misunderstood, and all he really wants is to belong. Yeah, I know, boo-hoo, maybe that was an original idea 25 years ago, but by now it's a stale cliche.

But it doesn't end there, folks. Oh no. The friends don't get all weepy-eyed and decide to accept the bully as one of their own to live happily ever after. The kids, after some pursuasion, tentatively decide to follow through on their harmless revenge scheme, and end up accidentally killing George. Now they find themselves on the bank of a river, far from the nearest inkling of civilization, with a dead body and a very large decision to make.

Mind you, this plot could still end up a contrived, melodramatic piece of crap, but in the hands of debut writer/director Jacob Aaron Estes and the amazingly talented cast, it proves to be anything but. For me, it proved to be perhaps the most thought-provoking, worldview-rattling film of the decade. Even more potentially cliche aspects of the plot, such as George's bully-who-just-wants-friends character, is so humanly written and so convincingly acted that nothing about him feels like just part of a movie. As a side note, the fact that every member of the cast is actually close in age to the character they portray (or at the very least looks like they are) lends a strong feeling of authenticity to the film, as opposed to the Hollywood status quo of alleged 16-year-olds being played by actors in their early to mid twenties.

Both of the times I watched this film, the closing monologue left tears in my eyes. The other two films which have made me cry (Boys Don't Cry and Million Dollar Baby) were because, respectively, the tragic events depicted actually occured, or the script was deliberately (and effectively) emotionally manipulative. With this film, it was because I felt so strongly for the characters -- all of them, the victim of the crime and each of the offenders. The movie, for at least those final seconds before the credits rolled, actually fooled me into feeling that the characters were more than just images on a screen, acted out by performers and recorded on film, but really existed. Somewhere, going by different names and in slightly different circumstances, I don't doubt that they do. Because of this movie, I'll never be able to look at a "common criminal" the same again.

The United States of Leland, while being not nearly as well-written or thought-provoking, does pose a very similar challenge to the viewer, even to a greater extent. It is about a 16-year-old boy, Leland P. Fitzgerald (Ryan Gosling), who, without any warning or apparent motive, brutally murders his ex-girlfriend's mentally-challenged younger brother.

It soon becomes apparent to us that Leland isn't quite...well, normal. You get the feeling that something is just a little "off" in his head. Certainly not in the sort of way that one would imagine would make a man likely to kill, just in a way that makes him distinct. No effort is made to explain the source of his eccentricity, as that would be unnecessary exposition. Similarly, and much to the chagrin of many critics, very little is done to allow the audience to get to know the victim very well. Personally, I think this is a sensible decision, considering that the film's aim is to help the audience understand and even sympathize with the child's murderer, and, while one could argue that a more talented screenwriter could accomplish both, there are certain limits to any writer's ability.

The United States of Leland, altogether, is much less emotionally involving, much less thought-provoking, and much less impressive than Mean Creek, so all in all, I have much less to say about it. For me, it served as a nice accompaniment to and expounding upon the message I pulled from Mean Creek, and if nothing else, a nice way to spend a couple hours of my copious free time.