A terrific Vera Farmiga and Christopher Plummer drive the family road movie Boundaries, about a hard-won reconciliation between a father and daughter who, try as they might, have never been able to make their relationship work. Written and directed by Shana Feste, it’s a low-key movie that gets where it’s going with few surprises—but the performances are top notch and Feste’s sensitive direction of her actors, playing versions of herself and her father, are impressive.
Vera Farmiga, one of the best actresses going, is Feste surrogate Laura Jaconi, a single Seattle mother in perpetual emotional crises, all of which Feste traces back to her wayward, charismatic ex-con father Jack (Christopher Plummer), from who she’s estranged after a lifetime of disappointments.
Like her relationship with her father, Laura’s marriage to a charming lout (Bobby Cannavale) has fallen apart, leaving teen son Henry (Lewis MacDougall) fatherless and in a state of emotional retreat. Henry may be a prodigious artistic talent in the body of socially awkward misfit, but that doesn’t save him from expulsion for drawing naked pictures of everyone in sight, his way of seeing people clearly and without allusions.
Frazzled Laura is also the assistant to a wealthy socialite, at the beck-and-call of outrageous requests like procuring a white tiger for a teen’s birthday, which doesn’t sit well since Laura is also a collector of stray animals (part emotional support, part savior complex).
Complications ensue when Jack, from whom she’s spent her life trying to distance herself, is kicked out of his senior citizen’s home for growing pot (his primary vocation). He needs a home, but since hers is out of the question, she agrees to drive him to the Los Angeles apartment of her dotty, dog-walking sister, JoJo (Kristen Schaal).
Mother, son and grandfather hit the road in Jack’s vintage Rolls-Royce, collecting animals at every turn and, unbeknownst to Laura, hiding a stash of very sellable pot in the trunk, which Jack thinks will net him a hefty $200,000. Jack’s customers include a memorable Christopher Lloyd as an eccentric who walks around naked en route to the jacuzzi, and Peter Fonda, having fun sending up an aging, slick Hollywood-type.
A pleasant enough ride, Boundaries registers as a slightly minor picture, albeit one with considerably nice touches along the way, but it could have been deeper. For example, what did Jack do that was so damaging? Was it his absence? Criminal record? Something deeper?
Feste, who wrote Boundaries as a sort of reconciliation with her own father, who shared much of Plummer’s vocation as well as his inability to commit to full-time parenthood, and the picture is an intensely personal exploration for her. The picture has a rambling, messy, anecdotal spirit driven by its untethered characters and germane to the road movie.
As a humanist director, she displays great compassion for her actors—whether a grieving Susan Sarandon in The Greatest, sensitive Garrett Hedlund in Country Strong and even her young lovers in Endless Love—and that is where Boundaries delivers its biggest win.
2 1/2 stars.
