Shotgun Stories (2007)

I required a much-anticipated second viewing before fully addressing this film with more depth than a sentence or two. To my satisfaction, this occasion outmatched its predecessor and firmly solidified the film as one of my favorites. And it could be for its simplicity, the static camera and location filming, or it could be for its complexity, the social implications of moral and personal motivations, but is probably for their fusion.

In a small Arkansas town, the death of a father refuels hatred between seven sons. The two sets of half brothers, one set estranged from their mother, one encasing her, were raised to hate the other. And in a cold yet decidedly personal conflagration of emotion the sides are forever damaged. Michael Shannon, plays Son, who with his younger brothers Boy and Guy, carve out a meek existence in a sedated and un-stimulating small town. With the death of their father, and words exchanged at his funeral, their brotherly rivals demand that the feud end. If the threat wasn't clear enough, blood will have to be spilled to do so.

The camera in this film is an observant bystander; it could almost act as another unseen sibling. It watches the interactions with formal documentation, identifying the players involved and letting their actions determine outcomes. There is nothing flashy in the delivery; even the title could be considered a misnomer by suggesting a prevalence of shotguns. The trailer itself is much more action oriented than the film remains, although for a trailer there is still very little. The film relies on a brooding and unrelenting anger, a deep seeded and growing bond of hatred. Nichol’s film is so stylistically understated that it could easily be confused with something drab and unrewarding. Rather, its execution becomes flawless, not relying on commercial tactics to build its much more developed climax.

For a film about family, it is truly scary. At the same time, its devotion, for a lack of a better word, is inspiring. The rounded characters do not exist as cut outs of small town yokels, but exist in a much more fully formed state than much of what we see today. It is difficult not to notice the aggression fermenting under the mellow, if stern, facades. A town, so depressed and uninspiring, has bred people whose complexity and intensity make up for their un-motivating surroundings. We are not to be distracted by an abundance of environmental stimulators with such a precarious status of social networks.

Shotgun Stories is a fascinating portrait of small town life. It is disarming and alarming in its content and discerning and concerning in its depth. The film broods over anger and the perpetuation of rage. And it does not, for one minute, suggest that the world is an un-navigable or inhospitable place to be.