Dir. Nicole Kassell, 2004, USA, 87 mins
Cast:
Kevin Bacon, Kyra Sedgewick, Benjamin Bratt, Mos Def, Eve
A film about a paedophile's attempt to reintegrate himself into normal life after a stint in prison may not seem like the most appealing pitch ever to land on an actor's desk, but we're not talking about any actor. Kevin Bacon has made a fresh stab at our cynical movie-going hearts with a powerful and intense portrayal of a man on the brink of breakdown, in a film that tackles a distasteful subject with thought and sensitivity. For an actor who made his debut in Animal House and went on to make many eminently forgettable films like She's Having a Baby and Tremors (and is known to many for a game connecting him to any Hollywood actor in less than six steps), Bacon capitalises on the success of Mystic River to give a remarkable performance that makes The Woodsman his film.
Convicted paedophile Walter (Bacon) is released from 12 years in prison for indecent assault against minors. He rents an apartment across the street from a children's playground and gets work in a timber yard. There he meets Vickie (Sedgewick) with whom he forms a friendship of sorts. Meanwhile the receptionist at the timber yard finds out his nasty secret. Walter is put under extra pressure by his therapist, a local detective and his brother-in-law. The more stress he is under the harder it becomes for Walter to fight his sexual urges.
Treated to a gala performance at this year's London Film Festival, which also arranged an audience with Kevin Bacon and masterclass with Nathan Larson who scored the film, The Woodsman is being promoted as a film to be taken seriously. It concentrates on paedophilia from the point of view of our protagonist, who is a reasonably attractive, healthy, intelligent, middle-aged man and a skilled furniture maker (hence the title), as opposed to an unshaven old predatory alcoholic (á la Mystic River).
Bacon plays Walter with sympathy, and as a man genuinely troubled by his inclinations who wants to be cured. "What is normal?" he frequently asks himself as he tries to establish how people who aren't sexually interested in children react around them, and what levels of attraction equal paedophilia. The film doesn't excuse anyone who has hurt children, nor does it make paedophilia seem glamorous or exciting. Walter is a very lonely man, who the film makes clear will lose everything and end up back in prison if he reoffends.
The friendship and kindness offered to him by Vickie is contrasted with the viciousness and victimisation he receives at work and from Sergeant Lucas. Mos Def plays the wily but weary detective, who has seen too many abused children, with deceptive restraint. His body language is relaxed but his dialogue makes us aware of the full horror of sadistic paedophilia, and also that the general hatred of paedophiles means he could do anything to Walter without fear of recrimination. It is in these moments, when Lucas underlines the fact that no-one would miss Walter if he was gone and as we witness Walter's attempts at rehabilitation, that we feel for him. Mary-Kay's witchhunt is as inevitable as the media's decision to publish names of paedophiles. It is only when we think Walter is unable to curb his urges that our sympathies switch again.
Director Nicole Kassell and writer Steven Fechter make good use of Walter's depressing apartment to create a sense of imprisonment and claustrophobia. If he deviates from his normal journey to and from work, Sergeant Lucas knows about it. We can quickly establish that eloquent, emotional Walter is too good for this life and his monotonous timber cutting job, but that he has become slave to his addiction. Typically muted, the film's palette is greys, blues and dreary whites, punctuated by colour when Walter is tempted, either by a bright red ball in a playground or a conversation amongst the rusts and yellows of an autumn park. The tempo is steady throughout: Walter's motivations and pain are communicated through his body language and facial expressions, and the pace only quickens to show the violence he provokes in others. It is a subtle and understated film that results in a very powerful portrait of a troubled mind.
A brooding score by Nathan Larson makes a quietly threatening intro to the film over an exceptionally long credit sequence. Larson (who has also written for Boys Don't Cry, Tigerland, Lilya 4-Ever, Dirty Pretty Things and Phone Booth), speaking at a London Film Festival masterclass, said that the score took him some considerable time to write and amounted to about 12 drafts, which was the most he'd done for any film. This was mainly due to a "political situation" with the studio people who felt the music was portraying the subject matter in the wrong light. A situation which also underlines the inevitable difficulty in relating this kind of story in a way that everyone is happy with.
At under an hour and a half long, The Woodsman is a brief study of its subject. Corners are cut on occasions for plot purposes with coincidence rearing its lazy head, and the film shies away from deeply exploring Walter's feelings for girls and how he relates these feelings to an adult female body. His onscreen relationship with Vickie played by his offscreen wife is very convincing, and it would have been interesting to see him discuss this with his therapist. The premise also that Walter is not a "monster" but someone who with enough TLC may make it, creates a questionable distinction between really horrible paedophiles and nice ones. The film also suggests that paedophiles are on every street corner and it's pretty easy for your child to become a victim. Whether this is true or not, it's a good rouse that will prey on the minds of worried parents, and some scenes have the potential to suggest that any man within 320 feet of a playground is a potential paedophile (as opposed to a father watching their kids).
Child abuse is such a huge and emotional issue, Kassell and Fechter should be commended for even attempting to tackle it in a mainstream film. The Woodsman succeeds in not confining paedophilia to the realms greasy old men and psychopaths, nor does it make any excuses for abusers (like an abused childhood or broken home etc). It portrays a very ordinary man whose life has been ruined by uncontrollable urges that have repercussions on anyone he comes in contact with. Such hate and revulsion was once chiefly reserved for homosexuals who received the same fate and marginalisation as paedophiles. It's hard to believe that we may one day look upon child abuse as merely an acceptable freak of nature, but The Woodsman certainly makes it seem possible that if we include we can at least try and 'normalise' the offender. The decision to roll the credits accompanied by a gospel song perhaps hints at hope for redemption.
Rebecca Kemp
|
