Mark Reviews Movies: FOURTEEN

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Review by Mark Dujsik | May 14, 2020

The impact of Fourteen is all in the rhythm of its storytelling. It is, admittedly, a challenge to connect to the film at first, because writer/director Dan Sallitt almost exclusively focuses on some seemingly inconsequential moments in the life of his protagonist.

Unimportant things just seem to happen. Mara (Tallie Medel) meets with a friend, goes on what might be a date, gets back together with an old boyfriend, goes on a double date with the friend, and then just stands by as the friend goes on a roller coaster of needing Mara or needing to be on her own.

We watch, and there comes at least one point at which one wonders what the purpose of any of the scenes are. Once it becomes clear how Sallitt is subtly and then bluntly manipulating time as these scenes move from one to the next, the real surprise is how we might have missed the filmmaker's central goal.

The friend, by the way, is Jo (Norma Kuhling), a troubled young woman whom Mara has known since middle school. The heart of the film is the relationship between these women, who have been through a lot together but have started the process of gradually shifting apart.

From the story's start, in which Mara shows up at Jo's apartment to retrieve a manuscript the former wanted the latter to proofread (Jo only got through 25 pages, which obviously annoys Mara), we get the deep, easy connection between the friends. Mara's frustration with Jo is also apparent, although she does her best to hide it.

To explain what happens in terms of a story is both tough and futile. Mara gets back together with Adam (C. Mason Welles), and Jo goes through a string of boyfriends. There might be something to the fact that the performances of all the men in this film are stilted. It's almost as if Sallitt intentionally wants us to find everyone except Mara and Jo to be dull, lifeless, and inconsequential.

The one exception to that trend is an older boyfriend of Jo's, named Conor and played by Dylan McCormick. He seems to appreciate, care for, and worry about Jo in a way the other men don't. The other men and their concerns are shallow. Adam's introduction has him admitting to a fantasy of a threesome, which Mara takes with good humor and even some planning, and the first of Jo's boyfriends, played by Willy McGee, behaves like a loyal, if horny, puppy dog—just as her second one, played by Ben Sloane, does. If the characterization and casting of these men are even slightly intentional, the counterpoint of Conor's presence—genuinely interested in Mara, cooking dinner for the women, taking Mara aside to make sure that she'll look after Jo no matter what—provides the essence of Sallitt's compassion for his central characters.

These scenes keep progressing. Mara cancels plans with her mother (played by Strawn Bovee) and stepfather (played by Ken Hunter), because Jo calls, says she has an emergency, and needs to meet with Mara. Jo is a no-show, and that becomes the trend: Jo says she needs her friend and bails, or Mara shows up to see Jo, who's asleep, passed-out drunk, unconscious on prescription pain medication, or just not interested in seeing her friend.

There is, of course, something going on with Jo, who loses her job early in the film and struggles to do the minimum work to find a new one. Sallitt holds back on making any kind of solid psychoanalysis about the character until a pivotal scene, surely the climax of the thin storyline here, in which Jo collapses into a sobbing wreck on the floor, still mourning the death of a cat when she was 14.

We don't need an explanation. Jo's behavior—her lack of motivation, her inconsistency, and reliance on controlled substances—and her words—so quick to speak ill of herself—say everything we need to know about her mental health issues. Mara can see it, but she can't quite understand it. She can offer advice, but it's the stuff Jo has heard for years upon years. None of it is working, and that only makes the cycle of depression worse. Kuhling's performance, which is so carefree and confident in those early scenes, is impressive in how she slowly builds that unspoken pain until that key scene.

Beneath the scenes of ordinary life progressing, there's a high-stakes story at play here—a young woman's health, life, and future hang in the balance, as nobody seems to know what to do about it. The key to Sallitt's goal here, though, is in the film's relaxed, unhurried rhythm, which serves as a stark juxtaposition to just how desperate things have and are going to become for Jo as the days, the weeks, the months, and then the years pass. We don't even notice how much time is passing between scenes until late in the film, when Sallitt provides us with a character whose mere existence and immediate growth makes the passage of time woefully, painfully clear.

It's a two-pronged point, really. Time passes, and we don't even know it. At a certain point, we realize that time has passed, but there's nothing to be done about it. Life happens. It doesn't stop for anything or anyone. Fourteen sees that as both normal and tragic.

Note: Fourteen is available to watch online through Grasshopper Film's website. You can choose to support a local independent theater (e.g., the Music Box Theatre in Chicago) with your rental purchase. Half of proceeds from the rental will go to the theater and its staff. For more information and to access the film, click here.

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