Undertow, David Gordon Green’s latest venture into the Southern wilderness, is a vast departure from his lyrical pictures George Washington (2000) and All the Real Girls (2003). Those two films predominantly rely on mood and characters, while Undertow’s a more plot-oriented venture, producing mixed results. As a thriller, it’s moderately successful – the problems arise when you realize that anyone could have penned & helmed Undertow without Green’s admirers being any wiser. Too frequently, Green bludgeons his audience with precocious moments and ineffective interludes that siphon emotional momentum down the drain. Undertow’s never dull, but it’s forgettable and lacks an identity to separate it from its genre cohorts. I expected more from the 28-year old Green, whose previous work showed so much promise – while not a fatal setback, Undertow certainly represents a significant backpedal for the talented filmmaker.

The story – actually vital here, a rarity for Green – focuses on a single father and his two sons living in the middle of southern bumblefuck. John’s wife passed away several years before, and to avoid facing the anguish head on, he decides to move himself and his two sons (Chris and Tim) away from humanity. Not surprisingly, Chris becomes something of a problem child – as his father bails him out, he wearily remarks on how it’s become a weekly occurrence. When John’s brother Deel surprisingly arrives at the farm one morning, a cloaked past begins to poke its nose into the open, and all hell breaks loose. The first half of Undertow is mostly development, the second half a chase of sorts – and not a particularly riveting one, at that.

Green forges intriguing individuals but stops short with too many ideas, creating a muddled and often ineffective atmosphere. Chris’ initial ‘troubled punk kid’ persona is emphasized by the aforementioned arrest-and-lecture sequence (also including a painful nail-through-the-foot moment that would’ve really caused me to wince if an identical puncture hadn’t occurred in last year’s equally mediocre House of Sand and Fog), but it essentially vanishes as soon as the family returns home from the station. Nothing else happens to emphasize a troubled childhood, a severely flawed relationship with his father…anything. In fact, Chris is obviously very close to Tim, and never seems particularly distant from his father either – aside from a brief hissy-fit about their unbearable solitude, everything appears fairly normal, both on the surface and below. It’s difficult to become especially attached to such a mixed-up portrayal – no fault of Jamie Bell (Billy Elliot), who does an admirable job for such a flatly written kid. His performance occasionally lacks bite, but that’s more Green’s doing than Bell’s in this case.

Tim is wasted even more than Chris…he could have been fascinating! Early on, he appears at the table wearing a girly pilgrim outfit – coupled with his floppy hair and feminine mannerisms, I began to sense some real homosexual undertones. When I caught on to his tendency to consume inedible substances such as paint and dirt, and his aversion to real food – combined, they caused regular bulimic torrents of vomit – I was sure there was something deeply dark and intriguing going on. Irritatingly, though, there’s nothing more to say on the subject. That’s not lazy reviewing, but simply that for the rest of the picture, Tim’s little more than a normal, scared kid brother on the run! How many shots of Chris pulling Tim somewhere by the hand do we need? Arrgh! That I’m being as generous with my rating as I am is indicative of the vast potential I felt existed here – indeed, the first half of Undertow is far more interesting than the second, with an enticing buildup involving the four leads and their various interactions with one another. This could have been a terrific film.

Flashes of Green’s signature poetic style make sporadic guest appearances, but they’re infrequent at best, and joined by something that’s generally foreign to the skillful director – pretentiousness, and I hate that word, unless I’m referring to post-70’s Godard pictures. For every authentic speech, we’re treated to cutesy monologues, pointless snazzy editing technique that contribute nothing thematically, and an imposing score with the dreaded heavenly wail making sure we’re aware of just what’s important. Interestingly, an almost identical musical technique is used in Zhang Yimou’s House of Flying Daggers, yet it seems right at home in the forests of China – or more importantly, under Zhang’s direction. For most of its second half, Undertow really only comes alive when Josh Lucas (Deel) is onscreen – taking charge of the surroundings and clichéd moments, he gives them energy and makes them palatable. Despite being a passable thriller, I hope Green goes back to his moody previous works, and realizes that’s where his niche lies, because it’s sure not here.

** (mixed)

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