The "dinner and several movies" plan hit yet another snag this week as I sickened once more. Thankfully, the illness comes in the middle of what looks to be a slim couple of months at work. The Midwestern weather has officially begun its perennially cruel (if you're sick) "spring fakeout" (which lasts from late February to around mid-May). My leaving early Monday didn't really inconvenience anyone, and I figured the following two days off could be used for recuperation. Sadly, all I'd be eating would be Sudafed and the occasional basic foodstuff, as I'd have little energy or desire to cook. I'm already slavering for the future, and the inevitable craving for sushi I'll probably have tomorrow or... all right, now. At present, it's a bittersweet affair, as the sun's been shining outside and I can hear the "chirping of birds" (once cited by my former spacey co-worker in a hilariously abortive attempt to cheer up my notoriously and relentlessly negative other co-worker). Within, my place has taken on the free-wheeling vibe of a medieval charnel house, as I can hear two of my housemates coughing and sneezing as well. I'm spending much of the first day in bed--catching up on some internet and listening to John Barry soundtracks--and plan to spend some of the second seasoning the Dutch oven my mom gave me for Christmas. Thankfully, I can still watch movies, and there are probably few more fitting for my present state of mind than those concerning the travails of American women on the fringes, portrayed by some fine actresses.

Wendy and Lucy (2008): Michelle Williams was my favorite part of the three or four episodes of Dawson's Creek I've seen in my lifetime, and it's been great to see her forge a respectable career out of what could easily have been teen-flick hell. I thought she was the best thing about the overrated Brokeback Mountain (Anne Hathaway being the most surprising), and she managed to shine through the majestic ruin that was Synecdoche, New York. In Wendy and Lucy, she's broke with a dog, Lucy, and a car in the Pacific Northwest en route to Alaska to work in the canneries (something I have to admit crossed my mind once or twice during college). The car breaks down and the viewer is treated to the kind of existence that far too many people face in this country every day. Wendy shoplifts out of desperation and gets caught, Lucy left waiting outside in the parking lot. When the police release her, Lucy has vanished and Wendy nearly loses her mind trying to find her over the course of the film, which ends on a somewhat bittersweet note (though I still look decidedly askance at all those "traveling" kids on the streets of Ann Arbor with dogs). Sometimes the setup seems a little too simple and clear-cut, with Wendy's good set against everyone else's lack of concern, but it all balances pretty well in the end, especially with a winning performance by actor and former Barney Miller writer Walter Dalton as a friendly security guard, and despite the appearance of Will Oldham as... one of those "traveling" kids, who's as annoying as you can probably imagine. Williams, to be sure, is superb, a number of scenes making me wonder why she wasn't nominated for an Oscar for this as well as for her turn in Brokeback Mountain. Forced to sleep on the streets for a night after she takes her car in to get fixed, she faces a unnerving encounter with a homeless man in which the top half of her face gives a performance in itself (you'd have to see it). Director Kelly Reichardt (working from a short story--"Night Choir"--and screenplay by Jonathan Raymond) really works to deliver these quiet scenes in a way that gives Wendy and Lucy a silent but overwhelming force throughout.

Frozen River (2008): Melissa Leo was nominated for an Oscar for Frozen River, and little surprise, as it's thoroughly excellent (best out of these three, and that's certainly a source for pride). Ray (Leo) works part-time in some sort of drug store in upstate New York, raising two children on her own and trying to pay off the new pre-fab home she's ordered so that the family can move out of their trailer. When work prospects don't look so hot, she runs into a Mohawk woman, Lila (Misty Upham), who offers to pay her for a ride across the border into Canada (I'm assuming the "frozen river" they're crossing is the St. Lawrence). Ray needs the money, and only starts asking serious questions once she sees a couple of burly-looking Quebecois hustle some people into her trunk. Ray becomes the northern version of a "coyote," ferrying illegal immigrants from Canada into the States ("free trade between nations," claims Lila, as they technically never leave Mohawk territory on either side of the international border), and she and Lila start to make a habit of their new sideline until the cops, led by Trooper Finnerty (Michael O'Keefe--it's a measure of this film's power that not once was I inspired to yell "Noonan!") start to catch on. Leo, who was so excellent on Homicide, is outstanding as Ray, sympathetic yet with a cold core that helps to inure her to the possible consequences of her deeds, one that fits very well with the bleak upstate woods and windswept terrain. Upham is just as good, parrying Ray's taunts and jibes and showing how much of Lila's toughness is dependent on the goodwill of her native community--the tribal police know they have to make an example of one of their own but act by and large as honest brokers. A number of (purposefully?) throwaway points are made about "homeland security," driving home how little these issues genuinely affect many people's daily lives. Writer-director Courtney Hunt gets the most out of her actors and especially the beautifully desolate landscape that surrounds them--yet another piece of America that appears on our screens too seldom.

Turn The River (2008): Famke Janssen was one of those actresses who'd never have the career I imagined; she was certainly the most striking performer in Pierce Brosnan's James Bond debut GoldenEye (1995) as lascivious villainess Xenia Onatopp. Since then she's been in a number of high- and low-profile flicks, of which I can only remember The Faculty (1998) and the thoroughly ridiculous Deep Rising (same)--I haven't seen her turn as Jean Grey in the X-Men films. Chris Eigeman was arguably the emblematic figure of Whit Stillman's supremely dull New York preppie films of the 90s--Metropolitan (1990; haven't seen it--actually, I think I did and have unsurprisingly forgotten it), Barcelona (1994), and The Last Days of Disco (1998)--as well as the best thing about them. That certainly wasn't hard, but Eigeman's snotty, arch charisma survived for other productions, especially Noah Baumbach's Kicking and Screaming (1995--worth watching for Eric Stoltz's turn as an eternal college student and Eigeman calling someone a "jackanapes") and Malcolm in the Middle, where he played the "adult Krelboin" teacher Mr. Herkabe. Eigeman directs Janssen in a gritty little piece of the kind that makes you feel good about the lower-to-middle-class of the American film industry, the type of film you know has probably played on IFC at some point. Kaley (Janssen) is a poolshark and mother whose middle-class ex-husband David (Matt Ross) keeps a tight leash on their son Gulley (Jaymie Dornan), largely due to the terrifying emotional manipulation of his own mother Abby (Lois Smith), an oppressively devout Catholic. Kaley's friend and occasional benefactor, pool hall owner Teddy (Rip Torn, and looking both verbs in full) sets her up for a few games, and she gets the idea for a really big score that will enable her to take Gulley away and raise him with a sense of what it means to be free. Naturally, things don't go according to plan. Turn The River veers dangerously towards a cartoon at times. I once again half-regret not being raised Catholic, as it's sometimes hard to take Abby's incredibly domineering personality seriously, despite personal familiarity with my own equivalents. Fortunately, Smith's performance keeps us just this side of three dimensions, and Ross is haunting and terrifying as a grown man (whose career in the priesthood was derailed by his marriage and fatherhood)wholly under his mother's thumb, matched by Janssen's feral performance as a mother with nothing to lose and everything to gain. It doesn't light any fires, necessarily, but it's a good, solid piece of work with some near-noir New York sensibility (plus a small role for Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist's Ari Graynor).