Running On Empty (1988, Dir. Sidney Lumet)
Synopsis:
Teenager Danny (River Phoenix) has been on the run with his family from the F.B.I. for almost as long as he can remember after his parents sabotaged a napalm factory during the Vietnam War, accidentally seriously injuring the building’s janitor in the process. After their latest relocation, Danny’s musical abilities are noticed by a kindly music teacher, who encourages him to apply to Julliard. Danny also falls in love with the teacher’s daughter, Lorna (Martha Plimpton), leaving Danny to have to decide whether to stay with his family or abandon them (possibly for the rest of his life) in order to have a chance at following his musical dreams and being with the girl he loves.
After our previous post on Lumet’s underrated thriller, The Morning After, this time I’m looking at the next film he made afterwards, another overlooked 80s film from him; one that is even further away from the type of police procedural that one normally associates him with and one that couldn’t be more different from The Morning After. Like that film, it’s a low key entry in a filmography filled with iconic movies, which is why perhaps, despite garnering acclaim on its release and being nominated for several Golden Globes and winning for „best screenplay“ it’s often forgotten about when one talks about Lumet’s best work. On anybody else’s c.v. this would have been a highpoint of their career. Whilst far from the first of Lumet’s films to focus on social issues (both Network and Dog Day Afternoon did that back in the 70s) this film has a much more intimate feel that either of those. It deliberately restricts its scale to family level, with the forces that pursue them kept mostly anonymous throughout the film.
It’s a film that puts the performances of actors, centre stage, with every single performance being both perfect and yet, fitting the piece as a whole. Of course, River Phoenix‘s lead performance is superb and deserved the acclaim he received. His performance here is one of the best of his sadly brief career, no doubt drawing on his own experiences of moving around a lot with his family when he was very young. Certainly his talent as a musician must have helped prepare him for the scenes here where David plays the piano, which he handles very convincingly and seem to be actually performed by him. Equally superb, however, are Judd Hirsch (Independence Day) and Christine Lahti as his parents and Jonas Abry as Phoenix’s younger brother. This feels like a real family and Lumet and the script is clever enough to focus on the details that all families can relate to rather than dwell too much on the extraordinary circumstances of this one. Martha Plimpton, as the music teacher’s daughter than Phoenix’s character falls in love with, is also superb. It’s a role that in lesser hands would have come across as whiny or entitled. Instead we feel her frustration and sadness in wanting the best for Danny and the possibility that he may have to leave her behind when his family moves on. Although he’s only in one scene, Steven Hill as Lahti’s estranged father also gives a powerful performance and his scene with Lahti when she meets him in the restaurant and she asks him to look after Danny, is perfectly played and incredibly truthful as well as very moving.
Lumet’s truthful cinematic eye never skips on showing us the price that the family must pay to live on the run like this. At the opening of the film, they’re forced to leave their dog behind at a Goodwill Center. They never buy anything new, even Birthday presents need to be homemade or found, because they leave town with nothing more than their car and the clothes they happen to be in. It’s the small details like this that linger in the mind long after the film has finished.
Lumet’s background as both stage and Tv director, has always shown itself in his economy of camera movement and setups and this film is no exception, with many scenes playing out largely or completely in a single master shot with only a few intercut close ups, forcing the viewer to concentrate on the actors performances rather than the editing. Gerry Fisher (who had previously collaborated with Lumet on his brutal and unsettling British crime thriller, The Offence) compliments Lumet’s understated approach with his naturalistic work here. Its apparent simplicity masks how accomplished it really is though. Fisher, like Lumet, is a master of his craft. If you compare his earlier work on British films such as The Offence or another we’ve featured here: 1974’s Juggernaut, both of which have a semi-documentary feel to them, with his work on this or Wolfen (1981) you’d be hard pressed to believe it was the work of the same man. Look at his superb handling of the night shots in this film. They feel realistic and yet, at the same time, this is no documentary – the placing of shadows and the amount of light is very deliberate whilst remaining unobtrusive.
Lumet’s taste and sensitivity to what the film requires extends just as much to the sonic side of his films as it does to the visuals. He always uses music sparingly, sometimes doing without it altogether (neither The Hill nor Dog Day Afternoon have any score whatsoever, but you don’t notice it’s absence). He also chooses his composer specifically for the film in question, rarely working with the same one twice and sometimes making some unusual choices from outside the realm of traditional film composers such as Andre Previn for Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Harrison Birtwistle for The Offence, Richard Rodney Bennett for both Equus and Murder On The Orient Express and Mikis Theodorakis for Serpico for example. Tony Mottola’s score here is mostly quite romantic or wistful-sounding solo piano or guitar. There are next to no cues for an ensemble of any kind. Also important is how the music is spotted during the film. There’s no music at the opening of the film when Danny and his family escape the F.B.I. and during the scene where he first kisses Lorna, the scene is underscored by the sounds of cicadas chirping in the background. Lumet is experienced enough as a filmmaker to know that both these scenes stand perfectly well by themselves, without needing music to enhance either their tension or emotion.
All in all, whilst a relatively minor work in amongst such a stellar filmography as Lumet’s, this is nevertheless a superbly acted and directed gem, which doesn’t deserve to be as “hidden away”as it has been.
