Check out this awesome Gasoline review from the New Times! See the bold paragraph for the part about the film's performances.
Andrew M. Hulse's Gasoline (2007) - Liza Palmer - New Times
Anyone who has ever lived in rural America will recognize Andrew
M. Hulse¹s film, Gasoline. Anyone who has been young and at the crossroads
of youthful self-absorption and adult apathy, struggling to find an outlet
for expressing an overabundance of conflicting emotion, will admire it.
Filmed on location in Kingston, Laurelville, Meade, and Circleville (a
delicious name that has such resonance with the film¹s story), Ohio,
Gasoline captures the aimlessness of life beyond suburbia a life not often
depicted in American film, except for heartwarming farm-centered dramas that
involve hardworking Americans ultimately dominating the land. Inspired by a
short story by Sam Shepard, the film, not surprisingly, is harsh and
dispassionate, holding no warm, fuzzy message of hope or salvation but
rather commenting on the futility of action taking action doesn¹t make you
feel better, it isn¹t proof of control but it is something to do to fill (or
kill) time.
Gasoline is one of those perfect short films and they don¹t
come around often. Seventeen minutes in length, it is defined by an
efficiency that communicates, resonates more than the longest of narrative
films and stays with the viewer, well after it is over. Hulse has clearly
invested a considerable amount of time, energy, and money towards achieving
a work that is consistent, unified, and polished. Shot on 35mm an act that
at once conveys an ambition and a respect for cinema the resulting image
is lush yet stark. The muted color scheme describes a landscape that exists
despite the characters/humans that inhabit it. The sound is masterful with
none of the issues that typically plagues short films (i.e. varying levels,
unprotected microphones, etc.). And while the nondiegetic music can be a bit
heavy handed, at times, for my taste, in an otherwise austere piece, it is
still accomplished and not inappropriate in setting a tone. Ultimately,
Hulse demonstrates a studied sense and appreciation of his space an ode to
the disinterested backdrop that can be Middle America.
What really distinguishes Gasoline, however, is the acting,
which so often is the sacrifice in films with smaller budgets. JP (Rob
Evans), Beth (Laura Ramedei), John (Daniel Abeles), and Amy (Rachel Walker)
are a band of acquaintances, sophisticatedly complicated by a delicate web
of interrelations (without ever really knowing, the viewer intuits that Beth
is dating JP, JP is friends with John, John fancies Amy for lack of anything
better to do, and Amy is close with Beth). As JP struggles to come to terms
with the sudden and grim death of his father, the three others tag along.
The four actors excel at working together to channel meaning through not
only their scripted dialogue but also their nuanced movements and gestures.
There is an architecture of authenticity among the actors, a believability
in their relationships and interrelationships that must be attributed to the
skill of director, Hulse. What is beautifully articulated through Gasoline
is the culture of the young particularly of young America which sees the
relative maturity of the women expected to account for the impulse of the
men. Most poignant is the artifice of these young friendships that we
convince ourselves is real so much so that they become and must be real.
To be sure, Gasoline is not without faults. Most significant,
perhaps, is a point of troubled continuity in the lighting between the shots
of the group setting the mattress on fire and the fire actually starting.
The former is overcast and the latter is suddenly sunny; this noticeable
contrast runs the risk of the act being seen and read as obviously symbolic.
I suspect that this was simply a problem with coverage and not intentional.
But if this was purposeful on Hulse¹s part, I feel that futility and
austerity should still be the overarching driving forces of the film.
Already, though, Hulse and Gasoline have been winning awards: for
screenwriting, cinematography, and original score at the 66th Annual First
Run Film Festival in New York City; and second prize for the Charles and
Lucille King Family
Foundation Award for Excellence in Filmmaking (past
recipients of these awards notably include Ang Lee and Spike Lee). So,
without a doubt, the faults are few.
It would be easy to read too much into the ending of this fine
film: a dramatic memorial to a deadbeat dad, a chance at redemption, a cry
for help. But sometimes a burning mattress is just a burning mattress and it
feels right to watch it burn.
Posted on
Friday, June 6, 2008
by Rachel Kiri Walker