THE STORY – Set on a winter night in 1975, a mysterious woman named Evelyn arrives uninvited at a holiday gathering and tell the story of Tom, an aging hermit who rescues a stranded actress during a Colorado blizzard more than 20 years earlier. To pass the night, the actress recounts an older tale of a farming couple who take in a troubled young drifter as a series of grisly murders spreads fear across the frontier.
THE CAST – Nick Nolte, Ben Mendelsohn, Adelaide Clemens, Scoot McNairy, Emily Alyn Lind, Caylee Cowan, Atticus Affleck & Indiana Affleck
THE TEAM – Casey Affleck (Director/Writer) & Ron Hansen (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 92 Minutes
There’s always a fascination to the nature of stories themselves and what purpose they ultimately serve. For all the forms they can take, whether they be written, freely spoken, or transformed through some other medium, the very act itself is one that informs much of the audience that is receiving such information. Even the storytellers themselves infuse their insightful perspective within the foundation that they are constructing. It’s a complex web of motivations that make such endeavors so fruitful. It’s a dynamic that “Company” clearly is interested in investigating. The directive points to luxuriating in a space in which ruminating on these themes is the most vital aspect to the form. In doing so, it reaches some provocative commentaries on the subject, even if it occasionally struggles to wrangle all the elements into a cohesive whole.
The film presents multiple layers of stories, all compacted within a specific framework. At a dinner party in 1975, a young woman named Evelyn (Emily Alyn Lind) arrives uninvited. Once embraced within the group of strangers, she begins to tell a story. That of Tom (Nick Nolte), an aging hermit who lived some twenty years ago. He finds a young woman, Alice (Caylee Cowan), lying out in the freezing cold. He brings her inside to get warm. It’s here that she begins to tell her own tale. Hers takes place during 1903 in the American Plains. A farming couple, Rebecca (Adelaide Clemens) and Emmett (Scoot McNairy), also happen to find a stranger laying outside their home. They drag in a young man named Caleb (Atticus Affleck), who they take on to assist in farm duties. They hope it will be a safeguard against a series of grizzly murders that have been plaguing the area. But a dark cloud also surrounds Caleb, and as more history is unearthed, so too is the relevance of all these tales colliding into one another.
In truth, there aren’t just three layers of stories being told here. Even within them, characters include their own tangents about either events they’ve witnessed or relating to others in their orbit. It feels excessive at a certain point, the film in danger of losing track of all this interconnectivity and becoming swallowed up by the scale which it has attempted to present. However, that seems to be an intention of the screenplay by Casey Affleck and Ron Hansen. The further the narrative descends, the more it becomes apparent these excursions are meant to bleed together. Because, ultimately, the point is not to map out the specific details that are presented. Various interpretations are offered, deceits are laced with half-truths and embellishments, and one isn’t quite sure who is being completely honest in what they are saying. Yet, that’s meant to be the underlying commentary. Telling these stories is more about informing where these characters live in the moment. What brought them here and where they will be carried off to in the future is irrelevant. The moments they share together, reveling in the somber reflections of inner turmoil they share, is what is worthy of exploration. Affleck and Hansen craft a provocative and engrossing meditation, one that posits experiencing a truth is not always synonymous with living within such conflicting realities.
Admittedly, this introspective analysis can easily become tedious. Affleck’s direction sets a methodical pace that at first revels in the period detail it is recreating. The intimate spaces are still able to capture an authentic representation of the past, which numerous cinematographers credited to the production are responsible for. Though one assumes that Masanobu Takayanagi – already familiar with how to photograph Western vistas for films like “Hostiles” – set a captivating tone with his own contribution. The scope never feels that expansive, and it’s tightly confined to a degree that can be suffocating. But again, there is a reason to push these individuals into such a restrictive arena. The way Affleck transitions between the timelines, utilizing striking framing and precise editing, is a compelling feat of filmmaking. Even when the progression of events veers into becoming tiresome, there is a quality to his direction that is consistently alluring. There is a danger of him losing control of the film when a more direct horror tone is introduced. It’s a bolder shift that can easily seem out of place, and to an extent, it isn’t entirely successful as a device. But it still ties into the larger thematic discussion being had, and that makes it a worthy examination all the same.
Among the many stories that are presented, the bulk of the film belongs to the farmhands where Affleck is meant to carry much of the load. Indeed, he is the son of the film’s director, and when dressed in that period attire bears a striking resemblance to Casey’s role in “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford,” based on a Hansen novel as well. There is an antagonistic presence he strikes that is best when called upon to sulk in shadows or attempt endearing banter with Rebecca. The more emotional outbursts are not quite as effective, but there is an intriguing aura that surrounds him. Another Affleck descendant, Indiana, also makes a brief appearance and makes good use of an impactful screen presence with very little material. Clemens matches him with an equal level of mystery that also finds layers to play with. Her intentions are slowly shifted throughout, and the pleasant demeanor she purports has its own insidious shades to make her an absorbing presence. McNairy isn’t called upon to do much but present a realistic foil to the quiet menace that is invading his space, but he’s more than capable of portraying a stoic figure. Ben Mendelsohn appears as a neighbor who is heavily suspicious of Caleb, and a moment the two share is a great example of how his charming facade can be both inviting and chilling at the same time.
Looking toward the other narratives, it’s hard not to be moved by Nolte’s presence. He has a character filled with a great deal of regret, an emotion that manifests into thoughts of rage and unfulfilled revenge. These are themes present throughout, with the latter a significant throughline in Caleb’s history and outlook on the world. But there, that violence has been tempered by decades of impudence and self-loathing, and his fragile state makes him a tragic figure. There’s an appealing warmth that radiates from his grizzled shell, signaling one of the film’s more emotional performances. He shares a nice chemistry with Cowan, whose voice takes over most of her portrayal, but has a friendly tenor to her voice. The same is true of Lind, similarly restricted but leaving the right impression for what the role requires.
“Company” has a labyrinth of stories that, at first instinct, one desperately wants to untangle. You pull at its threads to try to understand exactly what is happening, and it can be a frustrating process. However, it will always be an objective with an elusive end goal. At a certain point, you have to let go of such expectations. That’s another major theme of the film. It’s necessary to let go of the burdens that life has thrust upon a lifetime. Shedding such apprehensions and embracing the moment is what gives way to the most fulfilling outlook. Through its layers of storytelling, the film finds that thesis in an enthralling manner. It most certainly isn’t entirely successful, and the inconsistent momentum leads to plenty of moments that drag. What Affleck has created is an enticing work. It’s flawed but speaks well to just how those points of conflict within the stories we tell have the most meaning at the exact moment they are uttered. It is there in which the truth really exists.
