Junebug

Junebug opens with footage of the hollering mountain men of North Carolina – a fitting folk art overture for Phil Morrison’s eccentric, gently comical and down home debut. Playing like Meet The Parents reworked by Chekhov, this endearingly droll drama sees cosmopolitan art dealer Madeleine (Embeth Davidtz) journey South with new husband Alessandro Nivola to check out a local outsider artist (Frank Hoyt Taylor) and meet the in-laws.
Inevitably, bottle blonde mom (Weston) is less than thrilled with her son’s older city slicker wife, while the distracted dad and surly son don’t seem terribly impressed by all the air kissing. Happily, Madeleine’s deal breaking charms fare better with pregnant sister-in-law Ashley (Adams in a scene-stealing, Oscar-nominated role), a madly verbose firecracker of a girl.
Morrison, working from a cracking screenplay by Angus Mac Laughlin, never takes sides in the ensuing culture clash. Dreamy Ozu inspired images of budget furniture, superlative characterisation and bullseye performances form a textured, honest portrait of small town mores. If anything, the film is a little too genuine, eschewing dramatic purpose in favour of detailed meditation.
Still, in common with the Darger clone and art brut sensation at the fringes of the narrative, the languorous Slingblade rhythms and humane gaze lend the impression that Junebug itself is a work of folk art. It’s a neat trick and one suspects the director won’t be an industry outsider for very long.