by Frank Calvillo
It’s always an intriguing prospect when actors decide to venture behind the camera and play director. Occasionally, their unique view of life (let’s face it, actors do see the world through different eyes when compared to most ordinary folk) will lead to the kind of storytelling which is both dynamic and imaginative in ways traditional filmmakers never achieve. More often than not, however, when an actor ventures behind the camera for the first time, they bring with them all of the past directors they’ve worked with and infuse a wide-ranging collection of filmmaking techniques into their project, usually leading to a jumbled movie experience. Sadly, while she’s got prime material at her hands with Ithaca, actor-turned-director Meg Ryan doesn’t really know what to do with it.
In Ryan’s directorial debut Ithaca, the spotlight is on 14-year-old Homer Macauley (Alex Neustaedter), who recently lost his father (Tom Hanks) and has said goodbye to older brother Marcus (Jack Quaid), who has gone off to fight shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. To help support his mother (Ryan) and younger brother, Homer takes a job as a messenger boy at the local telegraph office run by the tough but lively Tom (Hamish Linklater) and the weathered but wise Willie (Sam Shepherd), both of whom help the young teen learn a thing or two about life.
Ithaca boasts an intro which feels hopelessly rushed and that never slows down, leaving the audience to decipher characters and motivations all on their own. As a result, there are flow problems throughout the scattered and unfocused film, most of which are accompanied by an endless stream of tonal shifts. At its worst, Ithaca is way too precious and sweet even when it’s trying to be dark. Eventually, it simply becomes too difficult to feel anything beyond base emotions toward anything happening within the film due to a lack of deep insight into the characters on the screen. This is especially true of the ending, which features a double tragedy that tries so hard emotionally that it just ends up feeling hollow. The only way to truly enjoy Ithaca is to let go of the need for narrative structure, and just enjoy the moments that do actually shine.
It’s these small moments, as well as a number of other elements, which at times make Ithaca work as a somewhat admirable first film. Instances such as Willie’s lovely scenes with Homer, Marcus’s pensive moments where he is writing letters to Homer describing his war experiences, and the powerful instance where Homer delivers a telegram to a rich society woman on her birthday which informs her of her son’s death at war are all wonderfully telling and expertly executed with the right kind of love and care required. Meanwhile, the team behind the scenes have put such painstaking detail into the look and feel of Ithaca that’s hard to dismiss, giving the film an air of dreaminess, even in the saddest of scenes. All of this is helped by John Mellencamp’s flawless score, which works wonders in helping to establish the time and place of Ithaca.
Every single performer in Ithaca is great for a number of reasons, not least of which is the fact that they are all talented actors in their own right. But being directed by an actor will almost certainly garner great performances from most casts due to their level of understanding and empathy towards the craft. Also, with such threadbare material, where plot and structure is concerned anyways, Ithaca essentially becomes the quintessential actor’s film with Linklater, Shepherd, and Quaid taking full advantage and doing some truly outstanding work.
In interviews Ryan has stated that she read the original novel the film was based on, William Saroyan’s The Human Comedy, repeatedly as a way of coping with a very difficult time in her life. Years later she actually ended up recording an audio version of the novel as well. There’s no question she has a deep and personal relationship with the material to the point where she knows it inside and out. Why then does it not reflect in the movie? While Ryan has ensured that Ithaca retains its literary feel while not forgetting to be cinematic (an extremely important and delicate feat which very few adaptations ever pull off), her film sadly feels like the greatest hits version of what seems like a poignant and incredibly poetic human novel that’s been set to shuffle.
