Just bear with us
There's more than meets the eye in new drama
BLACK BEAR
★★★1/2 out of 5
Cast: Aubrey Plaza, Sarah Gadon, Christopher Abbott
Director: Lawrence Michael Levine
Duration: 1 h 44 m
Available: In select theatres and on demand
As a film critic who often interviews actors, I am painfully, even paranoiacally, aware of the paradox of trying to have a heart-toheart with someone whose entire career is predicated on playing make-believe. Were Dustin Hoffman, Hope Davis, John C. Reilly or Winona Ryder (to name a few of my more memorable interviews) really that into talking with me, or just great at faking it?
In Black Bear, writer-director Lawrence Michael Levine picks up on that notion and runs over the river and through the woods with it. The film is about creative types and the way life bleeds into art, sometimes literally. It's an exciting, confusing story within a story.
It opens with Allison (Aubrey Plaza) arriving at a cosy, woodsy retreat run by Gabe (Christopher Abbott), who meets her at her car and helps carry her things to the main building. Right away we sense a playful, flirtatious chemistry between the two, but that vibe changes suddenly when they reach the building and there's Blair (Sarah Gadon), Gabe's pregnant partner. Allison calls her his wife. “We're not married,” says Gabe, just a touch too quickly.
Inside, over several glasses of wine (including, distressingly, several for Blair), the conversation sparks, then smoulders, catches fire and threatens to explode. They're the kind of couple where, if one says, “We did this,” the other will reply,
“No, we did that.” Or else: “What do you mean, we?” Allison is at first amused by this sniping, then discomfited, even a little scared. But she's also adding fuel to their fire, and clearly excited at the power of being able to stoke the flames.
The less said about the film's second half, the better. Suffice to say that the characters reach a crisis, at which point the narrative shifts — resets, even — with the same events now viewed through a different, more meta-narrative lens. The names are the same, but the relationships between them are different. There are suddenly more people in the cabin, with their own overlapping relationships and problems. The mind games are, if anything, more intense.
Black Bear is a third feature from Levine, whose previous two — Wild Canaries and Gabi on the Roof in July — were moderate successfully film-festival hits. Here's hoping this one breaks out of that rarefied atmosphere — pandemic release might actually help in that respect.
Granted, the ending is a touch underwhelming. There's such a fine line between a viewer shouting “Give me more!” and one asking “Is that all?” Black Bear fell into the second camp for this watcher.
But the three lead actors deliver intense, emotionally charged performances, and you're never quite sure where they're going to end up. Or whether they're even acting at all.