“The way of love is not / a subtle argument / The door there / is devastation,” wrote 13th century poet Rumi. That verse, referenced in Nanouk Leopold’s latest feature Whitetail, is brought to agonizingly literal life. The dour, simmering drama takes a headlong plunge into the decades long scars grief and trauma can leave behind. But with little in the way of respite from its sullen mood, the film often feels like an endurance test.
One pull of the trigger changes everything for Jen (Natasha O’Keeffe) when a romantic, teenage dalliance in the woods with her boyfriend Oscar (Aaron McCusker) winds up with her accidentally shooting and killing her sister Erica. As midlife approaches, Jen has made an uneasy peace with her past. Now working as a park ranger, the solitude of the forest brings relief to the memories she’s not yet fully dealt with. That all changes when Oscar, who had moved away, suddenly returns to their small town after the death of his mother. Rocked by this reappearance, Jen must now confront the adolescent-turned-man who abandoned her in her moment of crisis and reckon with what she’s made of her life.
Jen, who has never let anyone get too close, now starts actively pushing people away. Whether it’s her ex-boyfriend Bobby (Rory Nolan) or local cop with a crush Liam (Aidan O’Hare), she remains as her father Daniel (Andrew Bennett) describes, “stuck in tar.” On top of this, Jen is trying to track down a poacher killing deer in the protected conservation area that she oversees. The result is a character who is an intractable bundle of nerves, who is asked multiple times if she’s “alright,” only to wave away any concerns about her wellbeing. It can make following Jen, who is all scowls and cigarettes, and occupies almost every frame of the film, quite trying.
Much of the drama in Whitetail takes a good time to unfold, and not just because scenes or sequences cut by editor Katharina Wartena seem to drag on a few beats longer than they should. Leopold’s screenplay doesn’t get to the confrontation between Jen and Oscar until over halfway through the picture, only for them to quickly come to an imperfect, but adequate understanding almost immediately. The rest of the story is occupied by incomplete strands of subplot including Bobby’s lingering feelings for Jen, which threaten to derail his marriage, and the widowed Daniel navigating a fledgling romance with Pei (Helene Patarot). However, if the narrative has trouble finding its footing, the cinematography by Frank van den Eeden (Close, Girl, Small Things Like These) provides an intimacy with the rural Irish setting, even if Jen herself remains at a distance.
Perhaps aware that the picture needed a dose of vitality, a surprising event in the film’s third act shakes Jen out of her isolation. It’s an unearned and clumsy bit of writing that comes too late, and forcefully pushes Jen to realize that family and community are necessary to carry one through difficult times. That going it alone doesn’t let someone catch you if you fall. Rumi also wrote, “Don’t say goodbye / Remember a grave is / Only a curtain / For the paradise behind.” It’s a graceful way to approach mourning, one that acknowledges the reality of losing someone, but offers a sliver of hope. It’s the sort of nuance that Whitetail is missing, as it forgets that death is not just an ending, but can be an opening as well.
Director, screenplay: Nanouk Leopold
Cast: Natasha O’Keeffe, Andrew Bennett, Aaron McCusker, Rory Nolan, Simone Kirby, Aidan O’Hare, Abby Fitz, Sean Treacy, Helene Patarot
Producers: Stienette Bosklopper, Maarten Swart
Cinematography: Frank van den Eeden
Production design: Emma Lowney
Costume design: Manon Blom
Editing: Katharina Wartena
Music: Stephen Rennicks
Sound: Max van den Oever, Oliver Pattinama
Production companies: Keeper Pictures (Ireland), Circe Films (Netherlands), Kaap Holland Film (Netherlands), Savage Film (Belgium), VPRO Television (Netherlands)
Venue: Toronto International Film Festival (Centrepiece)
In English
98 minutes
