Leave No Trace would be categorised as meditative cinema: a slow-burning film that says a lot by not saying too much. In her first film in eight years, and only her third overall, director and writer Debra Granik crafts a stirring, character-driven piece that ponders on love and survival, free from unnecessary melodrama or heavy-handed exposition that would have distracted from the naturalism of the story. We gleam more about these characters from what they don't say as much as what is spoken.
When a small mistake sees a father and his thirteen-year-old daughter pulled from their isolated off-the-grid existence, they both must learn how to adapt to their new surrounding - but face difficulty in weathering their own relationship away from their wild homeland. Starring Ben Foster and introducing Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie in a leading role, Leave No Trace ignores the suggestion of its title to leave an indelible mark on viewers.
When a small mistake sees a father and his thirteen-year-old daughter pulled from their isolated off-the-grid existence, they both must learn how to adapt to their new surrounding - but face difficulty in weathering their own relationship away from their wild homeland. Starring Ben Foster and introducing Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie in a leading role, Leave No Trace ignores the suggestion of its title to leave an indelible mark on viewers.
Leave No Trace is a contemplative reflection with characters and dialogue as human as they come. What it lacks in narrative excitement it makes up for in depth and feeling, a well-rendered piece that commands your attention for the majority of its run. While it begins to stumble, plodding almost directionlessly when it hits the third act - where a solid 15 minutes could be shaved off to tighten that final stretch - it lands on an affecting and emotionally-charged conclusion that makes up for the difficulty in the pacing of the prior moments.
Granik's script is aching and beautifully-observed and bolstered by its minimalist mannerisms and refined storytelling, all of which is accentuated by the thoughtfulness and empathy that turns it into a poetic, lyrical experience. There's no exposition and you have questions you want answering - but like life, it often goes undiscussed. Its tender portrait of the father-daughter dynamic is strengthened with even deeper thematic explorations elsewhere, probing post-traumatic stress disorder, mental illness and societal rules, all giving the film additional material to engage you with, while never diluting the importance of the relationship at the heart. To a fault, the meandering pace in the final half an hour prevents a sense of urgency from arising, which can be frustrating at times; it's understandable and helps provide the bracing authenticity of the narrative but lingers just too long from a filmmaking point-of-view to hit as powerfully as I willed it to.
Granik is as sensitive in her direction as she is in her writing. Her humanistic vision crafts a film more visually evocative and poetic than many could dream. Handheld but steady camera movement captures the rawness at the heart of the story, ensuring that these characters are complex and lived in as we follow them so intensely. Michael McDonough enhances the visual elegance with a luscious colour palette and careful framing, composing a film as visually striking as it is thematically potent. By substituting exposition and explanation for astonishingly developed character dynamics and a physical closeness, a more richly-drawn and understated experience is felt, one that needs no bells or whistles to delicately convey its thoughtfulness. It won't be to everyone's taste and the deliberate, prolonged silences can be no doubt testing -- but it won me over rather early on and I felt totally absorbed for (almost) every second.
Granik's script is aching and beautifully-observed and bolstered by its minimalist mannerisms and refined storytelling, all of which is accentuated by the thoughtfulness and empathy that turns it into a poetic, lyrical experience. There's no exposition and you have questions you want answering - but like life, it often goes undiscussed. Its tender portrait of the father-daughter dynamic is strengthened with even deeper thematic explorations elsewhere, probing post-traumatic stress disorder, mental illness and societal rules, all giving the film additional material to engage you with, while never diluting the importance of the relationship at the heart. To a fault, the meandering pace in the final half an hour prevents a sense of urgency from arising, which can be frustrating at times; it's understandable and helps provide the bracing authenticity of the narrative but lingers just too long from a filmmaking point-of-view to hit as powerfully as I willed it to.
Granik is as sensitive in her direction as she is in her writing. Her humanistic vision crafts a film more visually evocative and poetic than many could dream. Handheld but steady camera movement captures the rawness at the heart of the story, ensuring that these characters are complex and lived in as we follow them so intensely. Michael McDonough enhances the visual elegance with a luscious colour palette and careful framing, composing a film as visually striking as it is thematically potent. By substituting exposition and explanation for astonishingly developed character dynamics and a physical closeness, a more richly-drawn and understated experience is felt, one that needs no bells or whistles to delicately convey its thoughtfulness. It won't be to everyone's taste and the deliberate, prolonged silences can be no doubt testing -- but it won me over rather early on and I felt totally absorbed for (almost) every second.
In a performance that will do for her what Granik's last film, Winter's Bone, did for Jennifer Lawrence, Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie delivers a star-making turn: an internal and nuanced interpretation of a character at odds with living her own life or her father's, packed with an abundance of emotion and feeling. She leaves a haunting impression with a powerful and compassionate turn that deserves our attention. Similarly, Ben Foster delivers tremendously as a scarred father looking to escape conflict and rules, with an extraordinarily rendered lead performance that will no doubt go down as a career highlight.
Leave No Trace is a sad film, with raw and real emotion and power in its detail and depth. Every now and then, you catch a glimmer of hope beyond the upsetting political relevancy that elevates it even further. It's graceful and it lingers, with as much meaning in the silence as there is in the dialogue, provided beautifully by Granik who excels as both writer and director. While the uneven pacing of that final act prevents it from sitting among the very best of the year, no one can deny that Leave No Trace is an emotionally-charged experience and I heartily recommend it - let's just hope that Granik doesn't wait another eight years until her next film!
Summary: Leave No Trace is a sad film, with raw and real emotion and power in its detail and depth. Complete with an astonishing pair of performances, Debra Granik's latest feature ignores the suggestion of its title and leaves an indelible mark on audiences.
★★★★★★★★☆☆
(8/10)
Summary: Leave No Trace is a sad film, with raw and real emotion and power in its detail and depth. Complete with an astonishing pair of performances, Debra Granik's latest feature ignores the suggestion of its title and leaves an indelible mark on audiences.