Narratively
speaking, Time Out of Mind is so
simplistic that I was certain the concept would never hold for the two-hour
running-time. Then I began to notice the stylistic choices filmmaker Oren
Moverman was making and realized that this is a film that needs to take its
time for the approach to be effective. It is also a story made for the
cinematic art form, at least according to Siegfried Kracauer’s list of the
medium’s unique functions in his essential work, Theory of Film: The Redemption of Physical Reality.
In this study, he examines the subjects
that film is best equipped to reveal, including “things normally unseen.” This
includes large and small subjects, seen through the use of close-up shots or
the expansiveness of a wide-angled shot, but it also includes subjects that
Kracauer labels as “Blind Spots of the Mind.” He breaks this category down even
further, listing the various things we have grown accustomed to ignoring in
everyday life. In a sub-category he lists as “The refuse,” Kracauer offers this
description:
Many objects remain unnoticed simply
because it never occurs to us to look their way. Most people turn their backs
on garbage cans, the dirt underfoot, the waste they leave behind. Films have no
inhibitions; on the contrary, what we ordinarily prefer to ignore proves
attractive to them precisely because of this common neglect.
As I watched Time Out
of Mind, a film about the daily existence of a homeless man living in New York City
Not only is the
subject and protagonist of Time Out of
Mind a homeless man, Moverman’s stylistic approach to filming him
effectively shows the way society turns a blind eye to their existence. From
the very opening sequence on, George (Richard Gere) is always in the
background, often seen through glass or in a distance. Even when nothing
specific can be seen in the foreground, there are always suggestions that he is
little more than a fixture in the settings that others exist in. We see shadows
of objects in the foreground and often hear bits of conversations occurring in
the vicinity of the camera, all while George occupies the background.
This is
effective in conveying the idea that we often dismiss homeless people as a
societal blemish we would rather not see, perhaps out of fear that we may one
day find ourselves so unfortunate. At the same time, it also forces the
narrative to become tied to concepts and mood in a way that dismisses story as
secondary. While patient viewers will be rewarded by the effectiveness of this
experience and a vanity-free performance from Gere, many unaccustomed to the
slower pace of the art film may tire of the repetition long before the end credits.
At the heart of
the film are a few subtle interactions George has with his daughter (Jena
Malone), who is jaded after years of being disappointed by her father. George
also builds an unlikely friendship with a fellow member of the shelter he
resides in (played by Broadway actor Ben Vereen), though the companionship
often appears more irritating than helpful to George. There is not much in
terms of plot, though there are some story points involving George’s struggle
to get help when he no longer has any form of ID. Mostly this is a film about
characters, with a handful of impressive actors playing minor roles. Some meet
George with kindness and some with animosity, while most just seem to ignore
him. There are stories from the filmmaking process of tourists passing by Gere
in costume, completely ignoring the movie star because of how he looked.
The Blu-ray
special features include a commentary track with Moverman and Gere, as well as
a brief featurette. There is also a PSA about homelessness featuring Gere, as
well as the film’s trailer. Though there is not much in terms of flashy
effects, the cinematography from Bobby Bukowski is greatly enhanced by the high
definition presentation. It may be slow moving, but this is certainly
visually-reliant filmmaking.
Entertainment Value:
7/10
Quality of
Filmmaking: 8.5/10
Historical
Significance: 6/10
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