American Honey, now playing a six-day encore engagement at Facets Cinematheque, is a hypnotic road picture about a crew of wayward young people selling magazine subscriptions across crumbling middle America. After winning the Jury Prize at the Cannes film festival in May, this fourth feature and first U.S. production from British writer- director Andrea Arnold (Fish Tank, Wuthering Heights) met a slightly weaker reception stateside, where some critics dismissed it as overlong and self-indulgent. Dusty Somers of the Seattle Times described the film as “vividly rendered but increasingly repetitive and aimless,” while Adam Graham of the Detroit News went so far as to call it “the most indulgent movie of the year, and the one in most need of a serious trim.” What’s most remarkable about the work, however, is how Arnold dares the viewer to sit and process American squalor, postadolescent recklessness, and the acuity of her female gaze. Unlike most mainstream films, American Honey is radically subjective: its success depends on how long the viewer is willing to follow the protagonist, Star (Sasha Lane), and see the world through her eyes.
As a director, Arnold has a measured, lingering style well suited to long-form storytelling, and she seems to recognize the power of accumulated detail to evoke mood and motivation. Some of the most haunting imagery springs from the prolonged sequences in the crew’s van: the skeletal back of a teenage boy undulating as he grinds against a seat; a tiny girl taking a bong hit and leaning down to kiss the sleepy stray dog in her lap; the kids’ wistful faces as they sing along to Lady Antebellum’s “American Honey” on the radio. This last scene makes clear that Star, quietly and resolutely, has decided to leave for good. All the details and detours have led to this moment, yet saying good-bye to her may feel strange and abrupt, even after 163 minutes. v
Directed by Andrea Arnold
