Todd Field is a filmmaker fascinated by the ambiguities by which people live their lives and the hidden qualities bubbling beneath their surfaces. His willingness to forgo a defined plot structure in favor of simply placing his characters in different situations and observing how they react enhances their depth. Field allows us to invade his characters’ private spaces so that we can better understand their feelings and true natures, humanizing them to the point that we empathize instinctively.
These rich characters earned his first two films, In the Bedroom (2001) and Little Children (2006), a total of five acting Oscar nominations. With an additional Best Picture nomination for In the Bedroom, the industry seemed to be propping Field up as one of the best new American directors of his generation, but a third feature to cement his position proved elusive. Adaptations of three different novels never made it to production and other projects fell apart at the screenwriting stage. But late last year, Field emerged from 16 years of silence with Tár, a film that revolves around issues of power dynamics and transactional relationships. It’s subject matter that is relevant and timely both within the industry it came from and the world as a whole.
While it’s too early to debate its timelessness, we can do so with Field’s debut, In the Bedroom. Thinking back to November 2001, the film was released just mere months after the September 11 attacks. While it was conceived well before it, current events can give art new meaning. The time period was marked by a series of shifting emotions – the initial shock, grief for those lost and finally, for some, a need for revenge. These same feelings are present in many of the characters in In the Bedroom. Therefore, it’s not a leap to suggest that the film may have resonated on a subconscious level, drawing on shared buried emotions.
However, the story opens in a completely different world where people spend their summers lobster fishing, attending backyard barbecues and playing baseball. In the small coastal town of Camden, Maine, In the Bedroom centers around the idyllic summer romance between Frank Fowler (Nick Stahl) and Natalie Strout (Marisa Tomei). Their age gap concerns Frank’s parents; Frank is in his early 20s, recently out of college and preparing to go to graduate school, while Natalie is a working-class mother of two in her 30s who is separated from her abusive husband Richard (William Mapother).
While the plot unfolds rather straightforwardly, the intrigue comes from Field’s ability to show the specific ways characters interact with each other. Particular dynamics such as the subtle differences in attitude Frank’s parents have towards Natalie, the class difference between the two families or the silences that exist within the Fowler household provide vital subtext for the events that transpire and hint at an ominous feeling behind the Fowlers’ seemingly perfect suburban life. This information is all communicated in the film’s first set piece at a birthday party. Field trusts the audience to fill in the blanks, leading to a more suspenseful viewing experience as Richard makes an unexpected appearance at the gathering.
Therefore, when Field starts throwing curveballs into the mix, they feel earned. A family tragedy occurs, and the film transforms from pleasant to heart-wrenching. However, the direction remains understated so that in the only scene where two characters angrily confront each other, it feels like a true emotional breakthrough. It’s a level of restraint that is rare in today’s most popular drama films, which often go for flashy narratives and big showcase moments.
The performances also work in tandem with Field’s tone. In the first act, Nick Stahl’s Frank is a carefree young man who is considering putting his graduate school plans on hold to be with Natalie while the sense of foreboding comes from Tomei and Mapother. In the second act, tension increases even further as the narrative is handed over to Frank’s parents, played by Sissy Spacek and Tom Wilkinson. Their differences come to a head when they are left to deal with the tragedy by themselves. Wilkinson attempts to clear his head by going out and reporting to work like normal while Spacek retreats within herself, smoking and watching TV in silence. There is a point where she suddenly slaps someone, and her silent fury can be heard ringing well after the scene ends. Like the title of the film suggests, Spacek and Wilkinson are the two stuck in the lobster trap, or “bedroom,” who, with nowhere left to go, begin to turn on each other.
After premiering at the 2001 Sundance Film Festival, In the Bedroom went on to earn more than 25 times its budget at the box office. The film’s power comes from its meticulous study of the things that we leave unsaid and how those pent-up emotions can unearth resentment and violence. Its reflections on the process of grief are what make it timeless. Feelings of loss are universal and will occur at the most inopportune moments. The film’s ending is an ambiguous one, something that should now be expected from Field, but it remains true to life and all of its gray areas.
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