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Rating: Missouri, mountainous area: the life of Ree Dolly is not what every teenager would want to have. Among peeled and black trees, under the oppression of a perpetually sullen sky, Ree is forced by events, by the succession of life, to take care of her brother and sister. The disappearance of the father, a dealer disliked by the entire community, is the further aggravation of an already very complex existence. The lifeline that young Ree seeks is in her mother, who is unwillingly forced into impotence by chronic depression.
The overall picture of Debra Granik's film is one of the most desolate (despite its simplicity) seen in cinema in recent years. Everything stems from the appearance of a policeman: Ree's father has mortgaged the house and land for bail, and if he doesn’t show up for the trial, the family will lose everything. The axe that the young girl uses to chop wood now mercilessly strikes her head: it seems she has no way out. Now the goal becomes twofold: to continue raising her family alone and find her father as soon as possible.
Very often a minimal budget and good ideas mean success, and Winter's Bone (original title), is one of the best examples in recent years. In fact, the second work of Debra Granik, a famous name in independent American cinema, made a great impression at the Sundance Film Festival and the Independent Spirit Awards, winning 4 awards also at the Turin Film Festival. The confirmation of the film's success then came with its nomination (without a final win) for 4 Oscars.
In the total simplicity of narrating a story (taken from the eponymous novel by Daniel Woodrell), Granik's feature film is filled with meanings and sub-meanings closely linked to each other. Everything contributes to conveying the idea of a country torn apart by its own nature: in the film, there are no manicured gardens, no parks for children, there is no element of "modernity." The interiors appear as dark as the landscape representations, while an atmosphere of filth envelops every sequence of the film with its halo. This is the environment where people wallow without a shred of humanity: everyone is concerned about staying at a safe distance from anything that might lead to unpleasant situations. An everyone "looking out for oneself" that sounds more like an "all silently against all."
These are the American outskirts forgotten by God, where the "American Dream" has been buried under brutality and aggression. They are the places of non-life, those desolate places where drugs are not fun but the means to escape only temporarily from a reality of difficulty and affliction. For Ree and her family, losing the house is like losing the world; it is the equivalence of death. The only way to keep breathing in this Missouri with suffocating realism is to find the father figure, be it alive or dead. She, a seventeen-year-old accustomed to problems, just wants to keep growing, with the weight of her two siblings on her shoulders. It's what, according to her, ensures her maturity and the strength to move forward. A consciousness that will grow exponentially on the slightly rippled waters of a black and impenetrable lake. Black as Debra Granik's film, impenetrable as that aura of pessimism that seems to dissolve only in the finale.
What remains is the power of a complex and visceral, realistic, true, and heartfelt work. There remain also the extraordinary acting performances. Jennifer Lawrence is perfect in the highly complicated role of young Ree (she had already made a mark in an equally challenging role in Arriaga's "The Burning Plain"). Then there's the rough figure of Teardrop, one of the very few who will help Ree in her quest. He is portrayed by John Hawkes, in a part that seems perfectly crafted for him. Violent, sadistic, and compassionate enough. Their performance also contributes to making Winter’s Bone an absolutely valid film, less "polished" than many titles at the recent Oscars, but perhaps more deserving of attention.
"Don't ask for what should be offered to you."
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