A dying man goes in search of, well, something in East of the Mountains, a quiet and reflective drama from director SJ Chiro and screenwriter Thane Swigart (adapting David Guterson’s novel of the same name). Whatever he is searching for might be the comfort of what he once knew, or it could be a form of absolution in the face of his inevitable mortality. We are never quite sure, likely because Tom Skerritt’s performance as Ben Givens, the dying man in question, never really allows us to access his state of mind. That doesn’t mean it is a bad performance, per se. On a technical level and in each separate sequence, the actor is solid at painting a portrait of a man who knows he is dying and must be getting on with it, preferably sooner than later.
On the whole, though, Ben is a cipher, to those around him and especially to the audience, in all the ways that truly matter. He discovers he has terminal cancer and determines to return to his childhood home in Eastern Washington State, with his dog Rex at his side. Various short-term conflicts enter the picture: His truck breaks down. His dog gets into a violent scuffle with another dog, which Ben is forced to shoot in defense of his beloved pet. Now he must find a veterinarian to operate quickly and does so in the kind and selfless person of Anita (relative newcomer Annie Gonzalez). Finally, he must find within himself the strength to confront his halting relationship with his own past.
These are the more immediate conflicts, presented to the audience in three distinct acts that are only lacking chapter titles to denote their separation. Following a brief prologue in which Ben sits down to talk with (but says nothing of substance to) his daughter Renee (Mira Sorvino), the first act is the most reflective, almost wordless apart from the misunderstanding with the other dog’s owner. The second act, in which he seeks medical care for his dog and connects with another human in a true and genuine way that he likely hasn’t experienced in some time, is the film’s strongest, mostly for the budding chemistry between Ben and Anita (Gonzalez is quite good, too, offering warm meals and selfless kindness to her patient’s owner).
Chiro and cinematographer Sebastien Scandiuzzi present the wilderness of the Northwest with a gentle, loving reverence for nature that reflects Ben’s own relationship with it as his life nears its closing chapter. The problem, then, is the third act, in which Ben plans out a confrontation with the antagonistic dog’s owner, armed with a gun and nothing to lose. Thankfully, the film does not go in the direction of a thriller, but it still uses the false promise of one to offer closure, as Ben visits his brother Aidan (Wally Dalton) and the siblings wax nostalgic about the old days.
The intentionally meandering nature of East of the Mountains is both admirable and frustrating. It’s admirable, because there is a lot of potential in the story of a dying man seeking intangible comfort in the twilight of his life. It’s frustrating, because the actual story here is so quiet and reflective that it eludes a genuine arc for this character.
Photo COURTESY OF QUIVER DISTRIBUTION
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