Good One is an uncomfortably revealing film from India Donaldson, her debut as a screenwriter and director. The film is deliberately ambiguous, starting with the title.
Sam (Lily Collias) and her father Chris (James Le Gros) are packing for their annual father-daughter camping trip. Cris stumbles over the baby toys scattered haphazardly on the floor, scolds his young wife for not washing his hiking shorts as if it were her job, and carefully packs the dry food they’ll need for the trip. Sam, lounging on her bed with her friend and confidant Jesse, watches with amusement as her fussy father frets over the details. That Sam allows her father the freedom to act like a jerk says a lot about their relationship. Next stop? Matt’s house. Matt is Chris’ oldest friend and this is his first backpacking adventure. When they arrive at Matt’s doorstep, an argument is in progress. Dylan, Matt’s son, refuses to accompany him on the long-planned trip. Harsh words and the typical “let’s see if I care” follow, and Matt will head off alone with his gear in hand. The atmosphere is tense because he brings his negative vibes with him. Matt is in the middle of a divorce and complains whiningly that he has to give it all up. Matt is an actor who is reduced to promoting irritable bowel syndrome and is fast approaching his sell-by date. And Sam, ever the wry observer, sits back quietly, enjoying the scenery and amused by the silliness of Matt’s complaints.
James Le Gros and Lily Collias. Photo courtesy of Metrograph Pictures.
This trip is sacrosanct for Sam and Chris, a rite of passage, an unspoken communion with nature. Matt is the embodiment of “three is a crowd.” Surrounded by stunning beauty, the sound of birds, insects, and swaying trees lasts only until the next time Matt complains. When they arrive at their first campsite, Matt, loaded down with junk food, admits he forgot his sleeping bag in the car. His incompetence and codependency are amusing for the moment. Sam has a pretty clear view of this sad guy. His lack of insight would be appalling if it wasn’t funny. It’s Sam who, in her 17 years of life, has had to negotiate her parents’ divorce and pave a path of acceptance with as little negative judgment as possible. She assures Matt that life will eventually return to some semblance of normalcy, and Dylan, whose anger seems so incomprehensible to him, acts out of protection for his mother.
They walk on and find themselves surrounded by extraordinary beauty. The shared father-daughter experience joins memories of past journeys like a colorful firework. They nod, knowing they feel silently as one. But it is this silence, so often interrupted by Matt’s inane comments, that reveals both the strengths and the cracks in their relationship. Constantly navigating the waters of petty squabbles and the memories of immature manchildren, of which her father is as much a part as Matt, Sam’s amusement is strained.
When an inappropriate remark is made and Sam needs more from her father than a nod toward nature, she sees the fault lines she had previously ignored. Chris, rightly or wrongly, has a better, easier shared experience with Matt than with Sam. Chris is unlikely to recognize this gaping hole in his relationship with his extraordinarily mature daughter, but unfortunately, Sam does. Is his inability to communicate meaningfully with his daughter a longstanding trait? Does he love her less, or doesn’t know how to love her? So many questions. So few answers. Donaldson has planted ambiguity in every crack. Matt could be the innocuous catalyst of a larger problem that sets Sam on the “older but wiser” path.
Donaldson has shown amazing restraint in telling this complex story that begins so straightforwardly. The parents’ relationships are a vast minefield that becomes even more explosive when divorce, remarriage and troubled friendships strain emotional needs. She leaves almost everything in a state of ambiguity, where you’re forced to find answers that may or may not exist. She leaves one thing relatively clear: the adults are not the good guys. But black and white are not the colors that matter here, and there are many shades of gray as Sam navigates her way through her father’s sins.
Danny McCArthy and James Le Gros. Photo courtesy of Metrograph Pictures.
This insightful and beautiful film is enhanced by the nature itself it explores, and the landscapes will occasionally leave you gasping for air. In his film debut as a cinematographer, Wilson Cameron has captured the wilderness at its greatest glory. His shots are breathtaking. Donaldson is blessed with impeccable timing and pacing with a trio of exceptional actors. Danny McCarthy as Matt wears his insecurities defensively on display on his ill-fitting cutoff jeans. He talks too much and says too little and has probably never taken responsibility for his actions. Whether it’s how his wife talks badly about him or why his son hates him, at its core it’s all about himself, not any damage he may have done. Ego, thy name is Matt. His indifference to the dangers he poses to others is an integral part of his narcissism.
James Le Gros (Chris) is the definition of a skilled actor. Always the best man and rarely, if ever, the groom, he delivers a deep, thoughtful and conflicted performance that elevates the film. There is a subtlety to his portrayal that is often overlooked, and that’s a shame. He always enhances the material to the extent that it would be less than it is without his character development and imperceptible movements. A character actor of the highest order, his portrait of the father is anything but clueless. He is the personification of ambiguity, leaving it up to us to discern what he is thinking or why he reacts the way he does. It’s a performance so naturalistic and genuine that you’d think it was improvised on the fly. It wasn’t, and that’s a tribute to the script too. Donaldson knows this character and Le Gros was absolutely perfect in his portrayal.
But the star, the focus and the anchor is Lily Collias as Sam, a relative unknown. She is the sun of this film, around whom everything revolves. With her amused perception of the people around her, she is the one who has to put back on the right track those who have strayed. Collias has an amazing composure that is evident not only in her eyes but also in her movements. Her step is deliberate, her demeanor warm. Collias was a real discovery because on her shoulders all actions and reactions must be balanced. Her small acts of defiance underline that, despite her preternatural maturity, she is still a teenager who needs support, a support that was ultimately denied to her.
“The Good Guy.” Even the title is ambiguous. It could refer to Sam, who is actually a good guy, or maybe it’s a reference to what you say after someone tells a lame joke. The immature and silly banter between the adults is the embodiment of a sarcastic or cynical “good guy.”
This indie will surprise and delight you. See it in the cinema and then again. It’s worth seeing several times.
Opening August 9th at Landmark Sunset 5.
