A young woman's plan to grieve alone at a remote cabin is disrupted by
the arrival of her childhood friend.
Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Katherine Dudas
Starring: Madison Lawlor, Decker Sadowski, Olivia Blue, Jacob Nichols, Adam Rodriguez
A heavily improvised mumblecore drama about a bunch of young
millennials in a cabin drinking gin from jam jars while twee indie pop
plays on the soundtrack would usually be the stuff of nightmares for
this writer. Kudos then to writer/director Katherine Dudas and
her talented young cast for making a movie that while ticking all those
clichéd boxes, actually has something novel to say.
Perhaps forced by the circumstances of the pandemic, we're seeing a lot
of movies lately where characters decamp to a remote cabin for some
alone time only to find they're not actually alone. Recent examples
include Katie Holmes' Alone Together, the Winona Ryder fronted thriller
Gone in the Night, and the Islamophobia drama
This Teacher. Juniper has a similar setup, though in this case the
remote cabin is owned by the family of the protagonist.
A year after the death of her sister Natalie, twentysomething Mack (Madison Lawlor) heads to her family's summer cabin for some alone time in a location
that brings back many good memories of time spent with her sister. Her
plans are disrupted by the arrival of her childhood friend Alex (Decker Sadowski), who arrives unannounced with her college buddy Dylan (Olivia Blue) in tow.
What ensues is a smart look at the grieving process. Some, like Mack,
prefer to grieve alone, while others, like Alex, feel it's important to
be around loved ones. This leads to much bickering as the forceful,
strong-willed and indeed, bossy Alex practically bullies her friend into
seeing things her way. It's not all abrasive, as the girls share some
drunken good times reminiscing over their childhood. Yet, the fact that
they need to bring up the past to get along suggests that maybe this is
a friendship that has run its course.
Movies like to push the romantic notion that friendships forged in childhood are the strongest you'll ever have; like the narrator of
Stand by Me says, "I never had any friends later on like
the ones I had when I was 12." But how many of us even maintain contact
with our childhood friends, let alone consider them still part of our
inner circle? The truth is, childhood friends are a bit like family –
you don’t really choose them, they just happen to live in your
neighbourhood and so you hang out together. It's only when you leave
home or go to college that your circle widens and you get to pick
friends that you really have something in common with. This is clearly
represented by the friendship between Alex and Dylan, which is far
stronger than that between Alex and Mack, even if Dylan can't bring
herself to confess her romantic feelings for Alex.
If Mack is set up initially as the centre of the story, it's Dylan who
gradually begins to take the limelight, initially through her loud and
boisterous personality but later as a tortured young woman carrying a
deep sadness. Blue's performance is fantastic, turning what might have
been a one-note ditzy, horoscope and tarot card loving stereotype into a
well-rounded and believable character who becomes the film's most
sympathetic figure. A similar thing happens with the later arrival of
Alex's brother Riley (Jacob Nichols), who seems like a
stereotypical frat boy but shows layers of warmth towards his sister as
her childhood friendship collapses around her.
If viewers judge Juniper by a brief online synopsis they
may dismiss it as another drop in the mumblecore ocean. To do so would
be to miss out on one of the more interesting movies to emerge from the
constraints of the pandemic. If Dudas and her cast can produce something
this genuine in such limited circumstances, I look forward to what they
might do with a little more room to breath.
