Some movies are made with linear storytelling in mind. Others are more about the emotional experience. Setting those approaches on a collision course, Black Bear is a wickedly funny and psychologically intense Ouroboros of a film that raises questions about individual perception and the nature of the self.
When a filmmaker/actress ventures to a secluded cabin in the woods in search of inspiration, she finds herself in the middle of an incredibly tense and awkward conversation with the pregnant couple that’s hosting her. Beneath all the pleasantries and small talk, beyond all the ideological grandstanding, the three of them struggle to define themselves and one another in the face of unexpected company. As things get heated, the lines of intimacy become ireparably blurred.
This is one of those movies that makes you question your own understanding of what you just watched. The first half of the film introduces the characters and lays the foundation for the story, but all of that gets twisted in the second half when the actors switch roles and the story folds in on itself into something similar but different. A large part of what makes this film is enjoyable is figuring out or, at least, interpreting what’s going on, so I won’t go over that.
Lawrence Michael Levine’s movie is one of the boldest and most creative narrative approaches I’ve seen. The first half of the film inspired and informed the second half as life imitates art and vice versa. His screenplay is immensely personal and the dialogue hits like a truck as the characters slice into the fabric of each other’s souls. The film is dedicated to Levine’s wife, Sophia Takal, who’s an accomplished filmmaker in her own right and that adds an extra layer of complexity in hindsight. The filmmaking portion of the movie delves into the behind-the-camera approach and the incredible pressure and intensity it sometimes puts on the cast and crew to get the final on-screen product. As the first and second halves of the film stand in opposition to one another, it’s interesting to see the behind-the-camera machinery in the second half that allows for the type of film we saw in the first half. It’s a lot to digest but the execution is undeniable and Robert Leitzell’s cinematography drives it all home.
This was a really stripped-down approach throughout the first half as there are only three characters. Aubrey Plaza has been a familiar face on the indie scene for a while now but her incredible, multi-layered performance drove this film. Her ability to quickly pivot from brooding intensity to dark humor work wonderfully here. She has some great dance partners in Sarah Gadon and Christopher Abbott who were both fantastic as well…especially considering all of their roles become jumbled in the second half. All of the performances are well worth the investment. We also get to see the lengths some will go to in order to cultivate motivation in an ultra-competitive environment.
Black Bear isn’t going to be for everyone. Its ambiguous and relentless moral inventory helps provide its identity but I could understand if the pacing and narrative approach are a turn off. That said, it’s a brilliant example of filmmaking maleability and it deserves to be seen.
Recommendation: If you’re into the craft of filmmaking, this a must-see for its impeccable style and you’ll be treated to some great performances along the way.