Director: Kazik Radwanski
Writers: Samantha Chater, Kazik Radwanski
Stars: Matt Johnson, Deragh Campbell, Simon Reynolds
Synopsis: A young professor struggles in her marriage, only to meet Matt, a man from her past who wanders onto her university campus.
Credited as the initiator of the New Canadian Cinema movement because of his shorts, Kazik Radwanski is known for making small-scale dramas that, upon watching them, you perceive the liberation from the story and the filmmaking. Everything he crafts seems pure, yet it reminds you of the mumblecore pictures that arose during the 2000s. This combination makes his films feel freeform – not containing any dramatic additives that separate his films from the grounded nature they are basked in. This translates into Radwanski’s latest, Matt and Mara (screening at this year’s Berlinale in the Encounters section), in a more perspicacious manner, yet somehow not containing the tense and silent emotional force of his previous work.
Continuing to work with his “muse” Deragh Campbell, one of the best American talents crossing through the plains of independent cinema, the film centers around Mara (Campbell, Anne at 13,000 Ft.), a creative writing teacher who is struggling with her marriage to an experimental musician, Sami (Mounir Al-Shami). During one of her poetry classes, an old friend of hers, Matt (Matt Johnson), is hanging around in the corner of the room. She hadn’t seen him in years; Mara was quite surprised at his appearance – garnering a big smile on her face that she couldn’t hide. The camera focuses on Campbell’s facial expressions; we see how Mara continues her lecture while trying to hold off on her genuine emotions upon his arrival.
There’s something about how Deragh Campbell approaches her characters that gives you a big chunk of the emotional weight in the story with just a mere look or the first impression she gives. In this case, because of the looks she offers, you sense that something holds back the titular characters from being completely open with one another. Immediately, the thought that there was something between them, whether platonic or romantic, arises from the looks in their eyes. But Matt Johnson doesn’t stay that far behind Campbell, even if she is indeed the standout. Pairing them together gives Matt and Mara the necessary brevity to be more grounded, even with the screenplay having some mumblecore–like and quirky lines.
As the film’s title implies, they are connected in ways that go beyond the simplistic nature of Radwanski’s storytelling approach. When the class ends, we get a proper introduction to Matt. He is now a published author living in New York; his success doesn’t really bother Mara, yet there’s a small barrier of resentment, at least from Mara’s side. Yet, Radwanski is hiding away the details behind his history with Mara. In a way, this is a film about the concealment of feelings, where the characters aren’t saying what they would like to say and decide to remain silent rather than expressing what’s drowning them on the inside.
In other instances, there’s also the case of not being bothered by the nature of their current relationship, yet feeling that tingling in your spine when being accompanied by a person who made your life better in the past. This intrigues the viewer into questioning the status of their past relationship. What’s their story? How long have they known each other? Were they lovers, colleagues, rivals, long-time friends, or something lying in between? Since the answers to these questions aren’t revealed in their totality, you are left to assumptions for the initial portion of the film. In your mind, this all leads to a potential or previous affair, as Mara is currently married and has a daughter, Avery (Avery Nayman). Since she doesn’t like the music her husband creates, all story angles lead to a separation.
But Matt and Mara isn’t this type of film, and Radwanski doesn’t like to simplify this story in such a manner that it can be deemed as a cliched and constantly produced “what could have been” tale. You don’t see the “will they, won’t they” interactions that narratively arise from similar films. And I believe it is for the better; if the film were to take that route, it would dwell on some unnecessary artificial emotions that may hinder its core. Instead, we get elusive dialogue and scenes that make you reflect on these situations. If you have gone through a similar situation – a friendship that may have turned into something more at a different time and place – you may be able to resonate with it due to the tangibility of the care given by the actors in their respective performances. It all adds to the silent, pocket-sized beauty that lingers during Matt and Mara.
