Growing old is not for the young. By nature, no one happily anticipates the lethargic decay that life inflicts on the human body until it eventually cannot continue to function properly. But, at some point, this affliction devours everyone, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it. Hip-hop artist Thebe Kgositsile (professionally known as Earl Sweatshirt) once stated, “Time waits for no man and death waits for cold hands.” Although no intrinsic ties connect Tom Quinn’s thought-provoking drama “Colewell” with Kgositsile’s esoteric raps, the quote remains applicable all the same. Accordingly, Quinn’s film drags such realizations into the light in a manner so restrained that you may not realize you’re crying until you start sobbing.
Quinn’s sophomore feature follows Nora (Karen Allen), a postal clerk living in the rural backwoods town of Colewell. Employed at the core of the town’s social hub, Nora is content with her life. Or is she? She lives alone, widowed, and her social interaction is almost solely restricted to her workplace. Furthermore, the impending threat of Nora’s post-life crisis is compounded when the future of Colewell’s post office comes into question, forcing Nora to confront her demons and fight for her job, both of which threaten to consume her entirely.
Floating somewhere between beautifully mundane and drearily cerebral, “Colewell” accomplishes what countless entries in the “golden-year-drama” subgenre fail to achieve—emotional resonance for all ages. As an introverted dissection of an every day, perhaps old-fashioned American woman, the film patiently sculpts one of the most well-defined character studies to debut in quite some time. By the end of the first act, Nora’s role as a fictional character concludes, and she evolves into someone you know: a neighbor, a family friend, or a grandmother. Correspondingly, Quinn’s naturalistic direction gently escorts audience members into the role of an observer amid the sleepy town of Colewell, a perspective that gifts viewers with the luxury of total immersion.
Authentically pensive and distressingly honest, “Colewell” remains true to its convictions by prominently exhibiting the uncomfortable truths of growing old. Remarkably, the film’s subject matter is treated with an impressively respectful restraint, opting to stay grounded and not venture down melodramatic sideroads. The absence of traditional entertainment value may vex those searching for conclusive answers, but “Colewell” offers satisfying rewards to a patient audience upon initial viewing and substantial brain candy for the ensuing day(s). For all of its unhappiness, the feature aims for long-lasting impact and strikes its target with outstanding accuracy.
Themes of youth, change, and loneliness circle around the heart of “Colewell” like low-flying vultures. While Nora grapples with these topics as she eases into her retirement years, the hitchhiking college grad Ella (Hannah Gross) finds herself entrapped within the same issues before her life has truly begun. Nora envies the youthful freedom that Ella takes for granted as she recollects on her past, however “Colewell” makes an effort to prove that loneliness and the fear of change are not limited to those entering into the final stage of life. Instead, isolation is a product of the human condition—not age. Both women are lost and on the verge of heartbreak as they travel down their separate paths, and while their experiences may differ, the consequence of being alone in the world damages them impartially.
Similar to its lead character, “Colewell” is shy and understated. Glacial pacing and silent grief may not suit widespread preferences, but its existence is refreshing nonetheless. Allen’s performance never strays from impactful, and Gross’s accompanying appearances exemplify the messages embedded at the film’s roots. “Colewell” may fall under the category of acquired taste, but, even for the skeptic of sedated independent films, its praiseworthy execution warrants your attention.
Often, the films you remember for years are challenging. These works catalyze the desire to examine your own past, present, or future from the viewpoint of an artist’s fictional creation and apply the resulting insights to your reality. Consequently, “Colewell” addresses a topic that, albeit relatively obvious, is frequently fumbled beyond repair in cinema. However, in this instance, any hint of failure is withdrawn from consideration. The film never strives to be an instant classic, and this is perhaps its leading triumph. “Colewell” desires merely to be good and to convey an innately relatable story, and by its own criteria, it is flawless. [B+]
