"In America" a Timeless Fable

The immigrant story is no stranger to the American Cinema. From Charlie Chaplin’s Little Tramp to Marlon Brando in “The Godfather,” some of the greatest and most lasting characters and images that have ever graced the screen can be found in the coils of the immigrant saga. The flip side of that coin? The story has been done. Repeatedly. Almost ad nausea. In fact, it would take a special hand to make such a tale worth watching, let alone elevating it to something special and memorable.

That is precisely, however, what “My Left Foot” and “In the Name of the Father” director Jim Sheridan has done. His marvelous new film, “In America,” is a modern-day fable about a struggling illegal alien Irish couple, Sarah (Samantha Morton, “Minority Report,” “Sweet & Lowdown”) and Johnny (Paddy Considine, “24 Hour Party People”), and their two young daughters, 11-year-old Christy and 7-year-old Ariel (real-life sisters Sarah and Emma Bolger), trying to make a go of it in New York City. Shown mostly through the eyes of the two girls, Sheridan takes the viewer on a journey around Hell’s Kitchen and the tenement building in which the family ekes out a living. It’s an extraordinary glimpse at how the terrible and miraculous can co-exist in even the most unlikeliest of places, “In America” transcending its familiar storyline to venture into that rarified air of luminosity populated by classics of the genre.

In many ways, the picture is a series of vignettes held together by the bonds of familial love and togetherness. Even better is the fact that so much of it is rooted in the director’s own history, “In America” a labor of love written by Sheridan and his daughters Naomi and Kirsten. And if some of it seems just too fantastical to be true, more than likely that moment is precisely one that actually happened. Says Sheridan in the movie’s production notes, “In some cases, the truth was far too strange to work as fiction. [But], a lot of what takes place in the film really happened to us.”

Things like the family, fresh from Ireland, experiencing their first New York summer. Being no stranger to heat myself (my hometown of Spokane, Washington is in the middle of a desert after all), I was ill-prepared when traveling to the east coast for a softball tournament this past August, the sweltering, unforgiving heat mixed with an almost lacerating humidity almost too much to bear. I can only imagine, then, what that first summer was like for two young girls so used to a climate where the temperature rarely heads above seventy. Yet, the sight of these two urchins huddled together under a cold shower giggling with giddy glee, or of their father Johnny braving the city streets and uncompromising store owners to install a smog producing air conditioner, is poignantly touching.

Even better is the slow, almost languid friendship that develops between the family and the angry African artist living a life in the shadows behind the closed doors of his apartment. The man, Mateo (the dazzling Djimon Hounsou, “Amistad,” “Gladiator”), is almost bullied into camaraderie by Christy and Ariel, each trying to make the most of their first Halloween trick-or-treat experience. But soon the ice around Mateo’s heart melts, this immigrant family and their children bringing a hopeful ray of light back into his life. This relationship shouldn’t work – it’s far too contrived and cliché ridden on the surface to ever be affecting – and yet the Sheridans refuse to follow all the usual tricks when fleshing out this bonding, life-affirming alliance. Simple, heartfelt beads of truth shimmer through and crack the old familiar coil like a bull in a china shop, and while the final destination of this neighborly journey isn’t a surprise, how wondrously it touches the soul is.

But the same could be said about this whole film. Sheridan directs so effortlessly, so at ease and full of subtle grace, it was almost like I was seeing this type of story for the very first time. Magnificently shot by Declan Quinn (“Cold Creek Manor”), and blissfully scored by longtime Sheridan collaborators Gavin Friday and Maurice Seezer (“The Boxer”), so much of “In America” achieves a simple elegance that’s a sublime wonder. No more is this in evidence than in production designer Mark Geraghty’s (“The Count of Monte Cristo”) work bringing Christy and Ariel’s world to life, especially their shabby tenement apartment. Taking shape slowly over the course of the film, this two-room dilapidated mess of rent-control mayhem blossoms into the girl’s own peculiar castle. Even when life tries to take turns towards the worst; their father’s inability to get over his young son’s untimely death back in Ireland, their mother facing a troubled pregnancy and other catastrophes both major and minor; this home manages to become the rock ultimately holding them all together.

I would be remiss if I did not take a moment to talk about the immensely talented Morton. At this point, the gifts of this young actress have become readily apparent what with her work in films a diverse as “Movern Callar” and “Minority Report.” She’s every bit as good here, anchoring the film with her sardonic, loving and acutely emotional performance. As good as Considine is – he’s wonderful – it is Morton’s Sarah that pulls the most weight. It is a twisting, beguiling and utterly realistic portrayal rooted in motherly devotion, easily one of the year’s best accomplishments and almost impossible to upstage.

Not that the two Bolger girls don’t give it their best shot. Child acting can sometimes be far too cute, too cloying to be successful. It is a rare kid that can pull off a performance as richly believably and without a nascent cuteness the likes of which these two do here. With an entire picture resting upon their shoulders, the Bolgers win us over with both tear and smile alike, achieving a perfect mix of innocence and worldliness that’s utterly convincing.

If Sheridan finally lets a little too much treacle enter into his tale than is necessary, I’m not about to be the one to give him hell for it. If anything, these moments of coincidence and sentimentality aren’t egregious enough to make a difference in my appreciation of all the film’s utter joys. Besides, the director quickly turns “In America” back in the right direction, ending his picture with a coda so powerful and touching any wavering thoughts I had towards the movie dissipated from memory. Like a newborn’s hand desperately trying to latch on to a parent’s finger; a timeless moment of inspirational love and perfection that’s impossible to reproduce, more impossible to forget; “In America” grabs and refuses to let go.

Rating: êêê1/2 (out of 4)

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