Tape (2001)
Richard Linklater was in a weird spot at the beginning of this decade. He had a collection of solidly acclaimed if not that enthusiastically received American films behind him, none that scored that well at the box office. This wouldn’t seem like that much of a hindrance if it wasn’t for 1999, the year the dam broke – a diverse crop of American (and foreign) films that were challenging and, in many cases, actually successful. The indie model was slowly changing and that would leave directors like Linklater (and Sayles, Yakin etc) in a but if a limbo. So what happened next? Well, first Linklater got his creative mojo recharged, and went to work. He matched his 90’s output in a little less than half the time, and tackled a wide variety of projects. For me, the one that remains the most compelling (indeed, the most watchable) was Tape (okay, second most – Before Sunset really is a yeah-Gods masterpiece).
There’s something fascinating about his approach in Tape. It’s reckless, yet teaming with ideas; tightly claustrophobic (one set – a small motel room) yet expansive (it’s about nothing less than the ownership of memory and the shifting tides of friendship). It features three intriguing characters who would be compelling on their own right but together provide a fascinating pas de trois. A Rashomonesque exploration of a “rape” (the quotes are not to delegitimize anything, but to indicate the various perspectives of what took place), Tape challenges the audience to a coruscating examination of three former friends and their lingering resentment over an incident that took place a decade earlier.
There’s something intriguing about how unlikeable all three protagonists are. More and more, storytellers are experimenting with unlikeable protagonists in leading roles and judging our responses to them, and predictably, the critical response here was muted at best. Critics carped at the character’s motivations (the big one: why does she stay?), the skeeviness of the cinematography (and in fairness, it’s pretty bad), at the point. I loved that she did stay. The film is challenging because it includes her viewpoint (MAJOR SPOILERS COMING UP) – because she’s ahead of the two boys (as well as the audience), because she’s defiantly razor sharp and cannier than anyone gives her credit for. Uma Thurman’s performance is magnificent: the way she plays off Hawke and Leonard, the ways he plays up the ambiguity (is her denial of the rape the truth or just a way of one-upping the guys, who even in the discussion of the sexual assault still treat her as an object), her performance is just a multifaceted wonder. She manages to assay her own refusal to play the game while suggesting she has her own rules she’d like to see enforced. Hawke’s all jittery nerves and spastic energy, and Sean Leonard manages to take a loquaciously tricky character and transform him into a genuine human being.
The ending in particular is terrific, and provides an additional thrust of ambiguity. It also helps that the whole thing is very funny. The ending is peculiarly moving (indeed, it’s not only the climax of the game, but the little punch it gives the proceedings means that we get a little unexpected emotional kick). As for Linklater, he clearly entered the new decade energized by challenges and hopes for independent film, and it shows in every frame.