Drowsy: (adj) showing lack of attention or boredom

RED DIRT, the feature writing and directing debut of Tag Purvis was described by Ted Shen of the Chicago Reader as “vividly [capturing] the drowsy desolation of the Deep South.” While this is an apt description of the tone of the film, “drowsy” isn’t how I would describe a film so rich in beauty and truth.

Starring Dan Montgomery and Karen Black, RED DIRT leisurely tells the tale of a family in a town so small there’s barely five people in its entire population. Griffith (Montgomery) is a young man in his twenties who desperately wants to escape the trappings of his suffocating existence. Burdened by responsibility, he stays in the home he grew up with to care for his mentally unstable aunt Summer (Black). His only friend is his cousin Emily (Aleksa Palladino), a moody nineteen-year old who has all but given up on getting the hell out of Pineapple, Mississippi, and making something out of her aimless life. The two share a sibling-like bond, except, of course, the occasional sex that emerges from a life without any other social outlet.

This all changes with the arrival of a handsome drifter named Lee (Walton Scoggins). Shrouded in mystery and arrogance, Lee awakens a long buried longing in Griffith; not only of leaving for bigger and better things, but that of repressed desire. Lee’s presence also causes a chain of subtle events that not only uproots dark, family secrets, but creates turning points that propels the film to it’s emotional finale.

RED DIRT is directed with a stylistic hand by Purvis, and the dialogue resonates with a Tennessee Williams-like poetry and drawl. Nothing is easily said. It’s what lies beneath our character’s words where the real truth lies. Purvis isn’t afraid to let the camera linger on a leaf, dripping with rain, or over two characters gazing over a field at a world that seems out of reach. This is what they mean when they call the film drowsy. Because not a half hour into it, and I was all ready to go to this town, pour myself a mint julep, and sit in the middle of a hayfield watching the sweat bead off of a beautiful, tormented farm hand. And if the south is full of compassionate and gorgeous men like Griffith, I’d like to buy a first class ticket.

This is certainly not a perfect film and it won’t appeal to everyone. If you are looking for naked bodies and catty zip-bang-gotcha dialogue, you’re better off renting something about the vacant, caricatures of West Hollywood. But if two men with an unspoken, aching longing appeals to you, this movie will surprise.

What’s amazing about this gem of a film is how much a precursor to BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN it is in it’s portrayal of suppressed desire. The two male leads never express their love for each other until late in the story when it might be too late for them to do anything about it. In fact, if you’re expecting a big sexual pay-off, you might as well mosey on down to your local adult video store. There is only one moment of restrained passion, but it’s simplicity is heartbreakingly effective. And the two leads, both straight actors, sell their love like a barn on fire. Without the right words to say what they feel, their passion and pain is told through their eyes alone. And it reduced mine to tears.

While Aleksa Palladino is a bit rough around the edges in the acting department, Karen Black gives one of the best performances of her career. Both nutty and compassionate, her character goes through the biggest noticeable transformation as she deals with a decades-old tragedy that has made her the recluse she is. And in a role that, in lesser hands, could have been reduced to an over-the-top characterization, she becomes the film’s most watchable and affecting character. It’s too bad this movie didn’t find an audience when released 8 years ago, because Ms. Black could have easily been nominated for an Oscar.

Having rediscovered this film again, I can easily say it has now become a personal favorite. One I will watch again, so I can let it’s drowsiness slip over me like a warm, summer rain, and the truths it reveals to touch my core.

The red dirt of Mississippi might be hard to wash off, but Red Dirt is something I never want to.

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