#13: Wendy and Lucy (2008) (dir. Kelly Reichardt)

One year after seeing this movie, I adopted a cat I named Lucy for a reason. This film also kickstarted one of my favorite actor/director collaborations ever.

I’d hate to reduce this latest viewing as saying, “this film is about America” because that’s actually not how I think when sitting down to write. I can see why some could interpret it on a sociological or political level. Obviously this is a story about being homeless. Me, I find a way in that comes from a feeling. It’s usually through personal experience and reflection but it’s also an act of projecting myself into the movie. The more I revisit it, the more it feels a part of me. It’s akin to revisiting an old friend or a town you haven’t been to in awhile. Wendy and Lucy has become more than just a distraction from every day life. It now feels like a photo kept safe in a shoe box somewhere. I’ve also always said, knowing that she’s a professor, if I were 20 years younger, I’d happily go to the same university where Reichardt teaches just to learn directly from her how to craft a great film.

In 2007, I traveled for six weeks to the east coast playing small, intimate house shows. I drove through Fort Wayne, Indiana at one point which is where Wendy is originally from. I brought along a notebook in which I kept track of my expenses, for I had just quit my crappy corporate job at a public relations firm. I was never sure what I was walking into, but I always found someone who was willing to help out with a place to stay or they would cook a warm meal so I didn't spend too much money. There is a moment where Wendy (Michelle Williams giving my favorite performance of hers) counts out her money and writes down what she has in a notebook.

It's tough to separate personal experience from that of a character on screen that you mostly identify with (except for a particular scene inside a grocery store). But honestly, I don't always watch films with a critical eye. I watch them in hopes of empathically connecting in attempts to not feel alone, or to understand humanity as a whole. Wendy and Lucy is one of the better examples of this type of experience, since I know what it's like to be broke and to have a real strong attachment to an animal. Animals are pure love. Yes, they have needs to attend to but they also need you. I’ve always lived with a cat.

This is based on a short story by one of my favorite authors, Jon Raymond. The short story is titled "Train Song," and aside from Wendy's humming, the only thing that could qualify as a score would be the sound of freight trains swooping in and out of the mix. Wendy is traveling to Alaska, and her car breaks down in Oregon. Then she loses her dog, Lucy. That's the gist of its very bare-bones plot. What happens throughout are moments of reflective intimacy, whether it is with a potentially threatening vagrant or an incredibly generous security guard.

Wendy and Lucy does not present a large amount of background story information, for instance, the scene where Wendy calls her brother may cause some viewers to wonder about their strained relationship and his role in Wendy’s current financial situation. Moreover, Wendy’s financial situation is never truly discussed in the film, only implied, yet the viewer is still aware of it. That notebook is all we need to see.

“It's all the little ways society isn't built to support homelessness, all the microaggressions that criminalize people who are just trying to live their lives. Wendy can't even sleep without being hassled by the cops, scorned by young kids, or violated by lonely men. It's not just her struggles with money, her very existence is fundamentally at odds with the social system. She doesn't belong. She's not allowed to be. But it's also all the little acts of kindness, all the gestures of genuine humanity that make you feel like your life isn't a meaningless burden, that make you feel like you deserve to live. The security guard simply treating her as an actual human being means more to her than anything else. When she's feeling completely worthless, he tells her that her life still has value. Her struggle is not meaningless.” - ScreeningNotes

Little interactions with townsfolk are prevalent but once again, Reichardt chooses mood and nature as a focal point. Beyond the surface of difficult travel and poverty, there is certainly a lot to grasp onto in terms of context -- the gap between the rich and poor, deregulation, day-to-day survival, and the realization that to truly move on, one has to let go. This is a theme I tend to return to a lot in cinema. Maybe because I view it as a sign of growth, strength, leading to resounding resilience that I want to believe is possible in my own life.

One of the final lines of the film involves Wendy stating "I'll try to make some money and come back." But deep down, I anticipate her moving forward, having learned a lesson about being impoverished. Wendy has to keep traveling and let her past live on without her. It’s one of the saddest endings I think I’ve ever witnessed and not for one second, does it play as melodrama. The thoughtfulness of Reichardt’s precise choice of when to cut to Lucy’s face is exactly what gives it power. We know Wendy has made her decision and now Lucy knows it.

This is such a hard movie for me to be objective about. There has never been a time when money isn't a concern since I've yet to work a job that made me financially independent. And I've had pets that were such a source of strength for me, and that to lose them would cause me to lose my mind. Wendy internalizes a lot until a rather frightening moment that leaves her shaken and shattered. That's the first of two times that this film moves me to tears, in recognition of panic and then the recognition of making the right decision, instead of a decision that I would truly want. As a road movie, Wendy and Lucy involves long stretches of train tracks which serve as a contrast to Wendy's unreliable car. Once she can't move on, through her own volition, it turns into a series of events that ultimately ends on a note of acceptance.

Reichardt knows this landscape, whether she has traveled on the road extensively or not. Since she is a film professor I imagine she was influenced a bit by Bicycle Thieves or the work of Bresson since they too find stories in the every day struggles of people just trying to get by. She finds solace in strangers being strange and also doesn't shy away from possible danger with random encounters. She paints a portrait of a town full of rundown shops and corner grocery stores, but allows a haven of forestry to serve as a sanctuary for the outsiders.

A moment of dialogue between the security guard and Wendy, really strikes me as a summation of what Reichardt finds interesting about small town life. "What do people do here all day?" is Wendy's response once she learns that there used to be an old mill, but now jobs are scarce. Rent is higher than ever. Car repairs… student loans… don’t get me started. Poverty is just a phone call away. We should never look down on someone as a failure if they couldn’t pay the rent. In the midst of the pandemic, I’m still surprised we are not in another Great Depression.

I think about that a lot. I look at my iPhone or Apple TV or music equipment and wonder, “what if these were the wrong choices to make?” Did I make them in the right frame of mind? I grew up in a middle-class home that did provide me with technological tools to create and entertain so the idea of that not continuing felt wrong. But I’m also not necessarily raking it in to remain stable. It is a paycheck-to-paycheck situation for me until I get a promotion. If I don’t, I can see things going south sooner than later. Certainly when I was briefly unemployed, I had to turn for help and I’m grateful every day for it. It leads me to put myself in the shoes of the less fortunate which makes this movie a valuable experience.

Financial instability plagues so many in a variety of ways now more than ever -- from those who have trouble managing their finances despite income, to those who live on the street and manage to survive despite dire straits. But ultimately, this becomes a story about a courageous, flawed individual and her dog. It’s a love story. Lucy is her friend that could depend on as a source of comfort and companionship. Once her friend and her finances dissipate, where is there left to go but onward in hopes of something better? 

What makes this one of my all-time favorite is the essence of its simplicity. There’s a purity and familiarity on display. With that comes beautifully observed details. The fact that her car breaks down in a Walgreens parking lot. That overly ambitious and reactive young grocery store employee that decides to rat her out for shoplifting. The subtle choice to include Wendy’s melodic humming as part of the muzak playing over the speakers in the store. The patient, but pragmatic mechanic that hates to deliver bad news. The aforementioned security guard that has to work 8-8. Attempts to find a safe place to rest. The realization that Lucy deserves peace, stability and a home that Wendy can’t currently provide.

Allow me a moment here to say that this won’t be the first film where I sing the praises of Michelle Williams (see previous piece #9 on Take This Waltz for more). It’s always been a bit of a battle between her, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Carey Mulligan as the ones that I respond to the most. Of course they are all magnetic and charismatic on the big screen but I think they’re each fearless in some of the roles they decide to take on. Williams didn’t stand out to me initially on Dawson’s Creek. But it was around the time of Brokeback Mountain where I started to pay more attention. Wendy and Lucy is when she became my favorite and I often wonder if it’s due to how much I understand this character more than most. Not to mention her choices here to dress a certain way, internalize more often and rely on forlorn facial expression and subtle gestures.

It's ultimately a sad story but showcases how people adapt despite limited resources. The outline for Wendy and Lucy came courtesy of the director's personal experience as well as her feelings about what entailed after Hurricane Katrina. This makes sense when we think about how those with a lower income (or no income at all) are neglected and cast aside. Everyone is used to living in their own little worlds, but after a tragedy, whether big or small, we have to interact with others for better or worse so how do we come to terms with personal setbacks. Traveling by car can feel like an enclosed little bubble that feels safe, but what happens when that car breaks down? We need to be more like that security guard and less like the self-centered grocery store clerk who thinks stealing dog food deserves reprimand.

To a small degree, Wendy and Lucy showcases how a small American town’s economic strife affects the bonds that tie a society together but this approaches that idea as a microcosm. At the end of the day, it’s hard now not to think about the homeless patrons I interact with at the library in downtown Chicago. I wonder about their psychology, their history, what they do after they leave. I also say, “let them sleep in the library. They deserve it for all their hardship and many daily struggles to remain alive.” Wendy deserves the same treatment and respect.

Very few filmmakers hit me the way Reichardt does with her immediacy and realism. She’s a storyteller that makes you forget about the camera to some degree. You’re hyperfocused on human beings, their concerns, their environment. They don’t exist simply to carry the story forward, they are the story. It’s a reflection of society in a variety of ways whether it’s First Cow and the desperate need to create delicious treats to earn a living (and finding the best source for milk) or maintaining a sense of community in search of water in Meek’s Cutoff. Like Paul Thomas Anderson, I don’t know how this filmmaker manages to tap into what I want out of movies but she has nearly every time. (I still need to go back to Night Moves since that was one of the only ones that left me a bit cold). My most anticipated film of 2023 is Showing Up for a reason. Reichardt + Williams = one very happy Jim.

Wendy and Lucy starts out as a movie about moving towards something greater, but life won't always allow for that due to circumstance. As someone who traveled by car with little money in my pocket, I saw this situation as an extension of something that could have happened especially if I was traveling with my cat Lucy. In the end, I can honestly say that Wendy and Lucy is one of the best films I've ever seen without calling attention to itself. The ending may be bittersweet but it is by no means tragic. Perhaps the reason there's a temptation to shed a tear is because it's not that hard to imagine oneself in Wendy's position. This 80-minute masterpiece exists, just like life, in a very pure and personal way that I think makes it remarkable. That and I have a cat named Lucy that I love dearly.