Men can be overbearing. Some of us know this firsthand because, with a bit of self-awareness, we can recognize we have, at least at some point, been the pompous bloviating jackass while more introverted people, sometimes women, silently sit and tolerate our blowhard monologues. Maybe some of us aren’t that bad, but we haven’t always provided space for others, either. India Donaldson’s insightful, intimate girlhood drama, “Good One,” takes the soft but observant perspective of the quiet, internalized teen forced to endure haughty men, namely self-centered fathers, and turns it into a masterful look at discomfort, alienation, and the put-upon fatiguing role of people pleaser. It’s a sublime little travelogue, deceptively simple, engaging, and thoughtful, and perhaps not unlike some of the keen filmmaking made by Kelly Reichardt, of which the film bears some encouraging similarities. It’s also a small, inobtrusive film about transitions, the “good one” daughter, fed up, rebelling, and moving towards a more authentic sense of self.
READ MORE: Sundance 2024: The 23 Most Anticipated Movies To Watch
A revelatory Lily Collias, who commands a discreet but remarkably striking turn, stars as Sam, a 17-year-old on the weekend backpacking trip in the Catskills. During the journey, she has to contend and bear with the egos of her father (James Le Gros) and his oldest friend (Danny McCarthy). Sam doesn’t exactly want to be there, but her parents are divorced, and Chris, her father, only has so many opportunities to bond with her as she’s off to college soon, and he’s recently become a dad again from a newer marriage. So, like many teenage contracts, it’s part obligation and, in part, something she ostensibly agreed to, but it’s complicated. From shifting moment to moment, she wants to be there, enjoy nature, and spend time with her father. But there are also uncomfortable scenarios where she looks as if she wants to disappear and be anywhere else but there, depending on the moods of the two men and just how oblivious they are at any given second.
Her relationship with her father is complex, naturally. He means well, but he’s a man and a self-absorbed dad, so she often doesn’t feel seen, heard, or respected. Matt, his best friend, is easier to fix on. He’s a class-A blowhard and loudmouth who’s hard to like. He boisterously runs his mouth, dominating the conversation. Matt was also supposed to bring his son from his own divorce, but he’s such an inconsiderate jerk that the teen cancels at the last minute, vexing his father and kicking the trip off with bad energy.
Clearly autobiographical, Donaldson’s directorial debut is inconspicuous but absorbing, confidently telling an unassuming, low-stakes story. Not much happens on the surface, and there’s not much plot to speak of; two bossy fathers go on a road and hiking trip with a teenage girl perpetually overshadowed by everything they do and say. But it’s the subtle, understated internal world of this teenage girl, often diminished, eclipsed, and minimized by men, told through a vast world of nuanced, ever-changing body language changes that relates a rich and internal universe of uneasiness, hushed disquiet, and near faint agitation.
And while Donaldson’s film is reminiscent of the modest coziness of the aforementioned Kelly Reichardt, “Good One” is arguably a bit more accessible, with a beautiful score by Celia Hollander and lighthearted comedy brightening something that might be a bit more surreptitious in the hands of the former.
It’s not only a delicate and sensitive masterclass in discomposure, awkwardness, and dismay, but it’s so acutely written and such a singular perspective to mount a film from. In lesser hands, “Good One” is a 15-minute short film; that’s all it can sustain. But Donaldson has thoughtfully crafted a modest drama of multidimensional depth that will resonate loudly with any viewer, especially women or any teenage girls who’ve remained silent in the presence of heavy-handed men, perhaps as a tool of self-preservation.
“Good One” is inaudibly heartbreaking in this regard: a deeply perceptive portrait of self-defense from us, the bad-tempered, thoughtless swellhead who has just soliloquized one too many times. Featuring delicate cinematography and discerning folk music cues, Donaldson gently fashions a sharp-eyed movie that is still so gentle, elusive, and yet shrewd. I’m not sure the last time I’ve seen something so Lilliputian and yet so commanding and assured of its pocket-sized vision.
Collias is terrific and expresses so much with so little, including a tenderly evolving estimation of the men, depending on the frequency of their irritable moods. To that end, LeGros and McCarthy are pitch-perfect, creating uneasy tension, and the latter playing the oaf rather perfectly. And LeGros does some of his finest refined work in recent memory of a well-intentioned father who is seemingly much more understanding than his boorish friend, yet still so un-self-aware, selfish, and insensitive to his daughter’s intricate needs.
Donaldson puts so much of the inexpressible into words, minute little moments of behavior that are easy to miss. What she has made her feel faint and gossamer yet made with such detailed clarity to the observant viewer. Moreover, “Good One” is diverting and watchable, with lots to soak in about coarse and lowkey human behavior. While some other hikers wander by and add a bit more humor to the film, the picture is generally a three-hander between Sam, Matt, and her father, and this dynamic often leads her to find there is no space for her, leaving her a bystander on a trip where she wants to bond with her father.
Long-simmering tensions—plus the sadness of realizing her dad can’t acknowledge and doesn’t fully appreciate her—eventually rear their head. A minor act of defiance concludes the picture, baffling her father, who is clueless about why she’s quietly incensed. He’ll ultimately never understand—and he’s missed the moment where he’s betrayed her trust—which is its own little second of melancholia. But it speaks to “The Good One” and the ineffable instants that it acutely captures: those tiny moments in life that are difficult to define and will always remain invisible to those who aren’t living thoughtfully. Either way, introverts rejoice; you’ve finally been seen, and perhaps quite like never before. [B+]
Follow along for all our coverage of the 2024 Sundance Film Festival.
