Pearl (Helen Shaver), an older woman struggling with sickness, mentors three young women living in her apartment complex in pursuit of their artistic dreams. The young women all deal with their own personal struggle: Aki (Jennifer Spence) is a painter unsure of her artistic merit, possessing a critical father wanting her to pursue a career in computer engineering. Harper (Colleen Rennison) is a talented singer/songwriter with a soulful voice, but relies on prescription drugs and using others to get by, and Fawn (Gabrielle Miller) struggles with getting her acting career off the ground as her fiancé urges her to start a family before they both become too old. Pearl uses her life experience to help guide them, becoming a safety net for them when the young women run into problems.
Down River is more than a film about four women at transitional stages of their lives: it is a statement about how we as humans struggle with fear of the unknown and ultimately must let go of what we can't control. Near the middle of the film, Pearl decides to go for a swim in the ocean as Aki watches her: Aki cites she doesn’t swim since the ocean is a vast and it is often unknowable what is around or beneath you—it makes her afraid to not know what lurks in the depths. Segments like these elevate the film beyond a focus of women struggling with artistic success, and tackles an underlying personal issue that each character shares in common: the fear of choice. Where will their choices take them? And whatever paths they do walk upon, will they be satisfied where they lead? This fear restricts the young women often, and Pearl, having turned 60, has led a long life comprised of many choices—good and bad—and tries to impart wisdom on Aki, Fawn and Harper so they do not live the same mistakes she made: surrendering to uncertainty and fear, for it will lead to regret rather than accomplishment.
Down River is more than a film about four women at transitional stages of their lives: it is a statement about how we as humans struggle with fear of the unknown and ultimately must let go of what we can't control. Near the middle of the film, Pearl decides to go for a swim in the ocean as Aki watches her: Aki cites she doesn’t swim since the ocean is a vast and it is often unknowable what is around or beneath you—it makes her afraid to not know what lurks in the depths. Segments like these elevate the film beyond a focus of women struggling with artistic success, and tackles an underlying personal issue that each character shares in common: the fear of choice. Where will their choices take them? And whatever paths they do walk upon, will they be satisfied where they lead? This fear restricts the young women often, and Pearl, having turned 60, has led a long life comprised of many choices—good and bad—and tries to impart wisdom on Aki, Fawn and Harper so they do not live the same mistakes she made: surrendering to uncertainty and fear, for it will lead to regret rather than accomplishment.
The film works due to brilliant editing, metaphor and strong dialogue that is strengthened by a profound complexity every actress brings to their performance—especially Helen Shaver as Pearl who speaks a plethora of emotions with a single glance. Every character is strong yet flawed, and the ambiguity each carries makes them authentic, endearing and relatable as they battle seemingly insurmountable conflicts—internal and external. One would be remiss to not mention Robert Wenzek and his superb editing, intertwining each character’s arc seamlessly, never focusing too much or too little on one person and creating a pace that is pitch-perfect: the characters live and breathe onscreen due to these elements placed in perfect order.
Written and directed by Benjamin Ratner, Down River is a sterling example of a filmmaker honing all their skills and carving with a steady hand. It is a raw, frequently touching study about the fragility of life—and of the human psyche; and although the film is often heartbreaking, it ultimately paints a cheerful portrait about embracing all facets of life and ambition—even at the most dismal of times—for experiencing things, positive or negative, molds who we are as people, and to live in retreat is a willing surrender of our own success.
9/10
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