FilmFreaks

Tag: road trip

  • Sacred and profane by Paul Risker

    The open road often serves as the perfect backdrop for introspection, but in Hannah Peterson’s film <Via Negativa>, the journey across America becomes a crucible for deeper emotional reckoning. Based on Daniel Hornsby‘s novel, the story follows Dan (played by Young Mazino), a young man navigating a world that has left him feeling adrift.

    Dan’s status is unconventional: rejected by his diocese, he finds himself living a life described wryly as being a rent-a-priest. This existential limbo sets him on a rambling road trip through the vast landscapes of America, encountering a kaleidoscope of strangers and unforgettable roadside attractions, from the absurd to the starkly unforgettable.

    But the journey is more than just scenery. As Dan drives onward, the seemingly lighthearted atmosphere of a road movie slowly gives way to significantly heavier themes. Amidst the endless horizon, he confronts the profound weight of memory, grappling with the recent death of a childhood friend and classmate from seminary school, alongside the persistent quest to find a former mentor.

    The miles become a mirror reflecting Dan’s internal conflict. Ridden with guilt over what he feels he could have done for his departed friend, the road trip transforms into an intense search for reconciliation. As he drives toward his destination, the scenery shifts from external landmarks to the complex geography of his own past, forcing him to wrestle with questions of regret and forgiveness.

    Adding a layer of unexpected depth to this reflective quest is an unlikely companion: a coyote that joins Dan on his journey. This animal, seemingly a simple presence on the roadside, takes on a surprisingly profound metaphorical meaning, underscoring the film’s central theme about companionship and the wildness inherent in the human experience.

    Ultimately, <Via Negativa> is an engaging cinematic experience that masterfully blends the freedom of travel with the gravity of loss. It invites viewers to look beyond the asphalt and discover the complex truths hidden within the landscapes we traverse, reminding us that some of the most meaningful journeys are those taken inward.

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    Credit: Eye For Film

  • 500 Miles review – wall-to-wall soppiness

    There are road trips, and then there are cinematic epics set against the backdrop of sheer, unadulterated emotional chaos. Morgan Matthews’ adaptation of Mark Lowery’s 2018 novel, Charlie and Me, falls squarely into the latter category—a moving, slightly over-the-top journey from the industrial grit of Sheffield to the idyllic shores of Dingle on the west coast of Ireland.

    At its heart, the film is a maudlin family drama fueled by an improvised road trip. Two young brothers, Charlie and Finn, embark on this public transport odyssey to escape their bickering parents. This seemingly simple flight becomes a profound exploration of trauma, grief, and the messy business of finding acceptance.

    Charlie, who battles chronic asthma from a premature birth, is a cheeky scamp with a knack for fart-themed repartee. His older brother Finn, meanwhile, is the introspective artist who reluctantly takes on the role of protector. When Finn overhears signs of deep familial fracture between their parents, he decides that the only sensible course of action is to sweep up Charlie and chase some sense of freedom across five hundred miles.

    As they navigate the landscape, fragmented flashbacks reveal little red flags about the family dynamic. Each memory dropped into the standard-issue road trip saga is layered with context, slowly building toward a realization of what very difficult things have happened. The film masterfully tracks the nature of everyone’s melancholy and why their journey to self-healing eventually leads them toward acceptance.

    The aesthetic choices further amplify the emotional punch. Matthews doesn’t shy away from maximalism; every scene is smothered in emotive Irish tin-whistle music, bathing the road trip in a warmth that feels both blissful and heartbreakingly acute. It’s a vision where moments of pure, unadulterated happiness are ramped up to make the eventual emotional reckoning hit even harder.

    Even the supporting cast shines; Maisie Williams delivers an unforgettable performance as the nomadic busker who joins the lads on their journey, finding her own way to navigate her less-than-ideal situation with a delightful, yet knowing, emotional distance. The film is undeniably well-meaning, tackling heavy subjects of trauma and grief with a sledgehammer approach that demands attention.

    Ultimately, Charlie and Me is less about subtlety and more about catharsis. It transforms into a strange, tender homage to classic cinematic escape narratives, culminating in a final act that delivers a truly bizarre and unexpected twist on the genre, leaving the audience with a feeling of thoroughly satisfying emotional release.

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    Credit: Little White Lies