A cinema of truth

Hollywood has never been synonymous with realism, and often tending to create films that augment, refract and exaggerate real life. The latest trend has been to pump as much money into action as possible, leaving little time or room for narrative or character, but in his film directorial debut, Pieces of April, writer/director Peter Hedges attempts to break away from the glitter and packaging of Hollywood to create a film based in human truth.

With a style reminiscent of the grittier, unpolished British cinema, the core of April is driven by its characters, whom we always laugh with and never at. For the most part, Hedges manages to create a successful complement of characters. The cast of April would not seem out of place in our own lives as each character possesses a genuine authenticity, which drives the movie despite its mundane, everyday plot.

The premise of the story revolves around a Thanksgiving dinner. April (Katie Holmes) attempts to prepare a feast for her family in her seedy inner-city apartment while the rest of her relations drive in to visit. Things could definitely go better for April when her oven breaks, which sends her off on a journey through her apartment building asking her diverse neighbours if she can borrow their ovens.

The story has a parallel structure, cutting between April's futile attempts at cooking and the family's tedious car ride. It is the complications among the characters that really drive the narrative. At the heart of the film is a conflict between April, who is recently reformed from a life as a delinquent, and her mother, the ironically named Joy (Patricia Clarkson), who is dying of cancer. April is attempting to at least slightly compensate for her youth with the gesture of making the family meal.

Joy is by far the most provocative character. Filled with cynicism and pervaded by the reality that her time is running out, Clarkson illustrates the effect that looming death can have on a person. At times willing to give up altogether on April, Joy is more content to listen to hip-hop music and smoke her teenage son Timmy's (John Gallagher, Jr.) joints than to resolve her issues with her daughter.

However, she is pushed along toward reconciliation by her husband Jim (Oliver Platt (LA 'XX), who is constantly trying to make jokes and stay positive, struggling defiantly to fix their ordeal by the power of his attitude. Platt aptly portrays this almost relentless optimism that contains underneath a bitter sadness, which shows through at times when Jim breaks down and is momentarily unable to bear his wife's illness.

April and her boyfriend, Bobby (Derek Luke) are the only characters that seem to be lacking in substance because they are almost too sweet. Granted, April is supposed to have matured from the misanthropic days when she lived with her parents, but Holmes' April, even with dyed hair, seems too innocent and polite, making it hard to believe the negative comments her parents make about her. During their car ride, Joy and Jim attempt to come up with one positive childhood memory of April and are forced to settle with Jim's memory of how peaceful she was sleeping.

Luke's Bobby is filled with exuberance, profoundly in love with April with the sense that there is nothing he would not do for her. He spends a large part of the film looking through the Salvation Army stockpile for a suit so he can look his best when he meets her family.

These two together seem like a pair that any mother would be happy to see. Bobby is African-American, which becomes a source of tension for Jim, who spends a large portion of the car ride hypothesizing about how he would have much in common with Bobby, but this seems to be the point Hedges is trying to make with his film, which serves as a direct attack on cynicism.

As long as we dwell on the bad things, make assumptions about people and fear the worst -- that is exactly what we are going to get.