Out of Time David Gordon Green's suspect terrain By Jesse Fox Mayshark
Cars don't rust in the South the way they do in
the North. Northern winters with their road salt take a toll on
auto bodies such that it's common to see steel corroded through
and flaking away at the edges. And most Northern states enforce
inspection laws that make it hard to keep vehicles in legal operation
once they start to fall apart.
Not so the South, where the combination of milder climate and
looser regulation gives a considerably longer lease on roadworthiness.
Cars pass from owner to owner, year to year, held together with
whatever's handy for as long as the motor runs. Like, e.g., the
Oldsmobile Cutlass that Dermot Mulroney drives in “Undertow.”
Parked in the driveway of the ramshackle wood house where Mulroney's
character, John Munn, lives with his two sons, the station wagon
looks like it might as well be up on blocks. Faded to a bile yellow
where isn't retouched with primer, the lunkish contraption gives
no obvious sign of operability. But the thing runs – and
as the film progresses, it even comes to exude menace.
The Cutlass is an identifiable touch of the director, David
Gordon Green, an Arkansas native whose first three films have
all been set in a
distinct and unkempt version of the modern South.
The publicity material for “Undertow” says it takes
place in “a contemporary South untouched by time,”
but that's not really true. There's nothing anachronistic about
Green's South. All three of his films -- “George Washington”
in 2000, “All the Real Girls” in 2002 and “Undertow”
last year – are unguardedly modern, they just present unfamiliar
faces of modernity.
The places they inhabit are not cities full of cell phones or
trimmed suburbs or office parks, but neither is much of early
21st-century America. The moldering factory towns and overgrown
but not unpolluted countryside Green invokes are not from some
land out of time. His low-budget movies are shot on location,
in places stumbled on during scouting trips on Southern highways.
They are part of who we are now, not just relics of who we were.
They seem fantastical or ancient only because so many movies and
TV shows show us such selective glimpses of the country.