Mumblecore has evolved into a recognizable subgenre of independent film. Known for its low budgets, amateur actors and natural dialogue, mumblecore captures the quirks, questions and everyday concerns of a predominantly white, straight, upper-middle class. Digging for Fire, directed by Joe Swanberg, is the latest addition to the mumblecore canon, and it doesn’t stray far from the genre’s established style. It’s about a marriage and the obstacles one couple must face in order to maintain some semblance of love and selfhood. It’s a fine story with a cast of fine actors, and while the plot builds in some subtle and amusing ways, it all leads back to a nuclear sense of sameness.
Tim and Lee (Jake Johnson and Rosemarie DeWitt) are a complacent married couple with a small child. They’re housesitting for a family with a home that’s bigger than anything their schoolteacher and yoga instructor salaries could afford. When Tim finds a revolver and a bone in the backyard, he wants to keep digging. He may have stumbled upon the ingredients for a homespun Agatha Christie. The LAPD shrugs off his concern and so does Lee, who is preoccupied by a book called Passionate Marriage, also what’s conspicuously lacking in her life. An ordinary sense of torpor sets in, and Lee takes off to visit her family and have some quality alone time. Tim stays at the house to do the taxes, which inevitably means partying, drinking and digging.
Tim’s friends show up, and they look suspiciously like Swanberg’s personal clique of Hollywood cool kids. There’s a coke-sniffing Sam Rockwell, a skinny-dipping Chris Messina and the conscientious teddy bear, Mike Birbiglia. Girls show up too (Anna Kendrick and Brie Larson), but they’re mostly there to look cute. Against Lee’s wishes, Tim digs through the night, and what started as a minor source of intrigue turns into a symbol for whatever magic his marriage is missing. One of the girls (Larson) pitches in to help, and their relationship teeters on the edge of acceptability.
At its best, Digging for Fire probes the fragile core of 21st century coupling, asking whether freedom and individuality can coexist with a shared bed and a baby to feed. While Tim literally digs for something more, Lee visits friends and relatives who raise the question: “Is [love] getting what you want or giving somebody what they want?” When she crosses paths with a handsome stranger (Orlando Bloom), the film hits its stride. Maybe Lee and Tim aren’t destined for the lives they thought.
Digging for Fire reflects a new stage of Swanberg’s maturity as a filmmaker. He’s teamed up with seasoned cinematographer Ben Richardson (Beasts of the Southern Wild), a talented composer (Dan Romer) and has a stellar cast at his disposal. Now that he’s reached a certain level of success, his characters have too. Like Swanberg, his subjects are getting older, and they’re not the people they used to be. Instead of scraping by in a shabby Chicago apartment (Hannah Takes the Stairs, Drinking Buddies), they have a home, full-time jobs and a child to care for. As soon as the film reaches its climax, with a subterranean discovery and an illicit kiss or two, it falls back on its safe, heteronormative heels. Swanberg evidently supports the notion that some things are better left buried in the yard. It’s too bad; I would’ve kept digging.