‘Sunfish and Other Stories on Green Lake’ Review: A Relaxing Omnibus Movie Dips Its Toe in a Small-Town Michigan Summer
A 14-year-old is obliged to stay at her grandparents’ lake home after her impulsive mom elopes and decides to prioritize her new husband. At the competitive music camp across the water, a determined young violinist pushes himself to be named first chair, sacrificing the personal connections he covets more. Meanwhile, at the local bar, a fisherman finds an unlikely ally in helping him to catch the whopper that’ll change his life. And finally, at a family-run bed and breakfast, two sisters make the most of their summer, before the older one heads off to college.
The location, rather than the characters or their independent narrative strands, serves to unify the four sketches that comprise “Sunfish and Other Stories on Green Lake.” Set in writer-director Sierra Falconer’s old stomping grounds — among the cozy, neighborly community that surrounds a scenic lake in northern Michigan — the pleasantly laconic anthology film debuted in U.S. dramatic competition at Sundance. Though the jury awarded the project no prizes, it was already quite the win for Falconer to see her debut feature (conceived as her UCLA master’s thesis) recognized at that level. Same goes for attracting the attention of “The Souvenir” director Joanna Hogg, who came aboard as an executive producer.
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Establishing the tone via calendar-art establishing shots and a folksy harmonica tune, Falconer brings a gentle, observational touch to the material. Over the film’s summer-spanning 87-minute running time, Falconer studies her characters the way a pair of kindly old birders do the avifauna over the film’s opening credits. Peering through their binoculars, Nan (Marceline Hugot) and Pop (Adam LeFevre) are excited to see a young loonlet on the water. A few minutes later, they’ll be raising a fledgling of their own, as Lu (Maren Heary) is dropped in their laps for safekeeping all summer.
It is Lu who insists on bringing the abandoned loonlet indoors, projecting onto the endangered young bird how her own mother (Lauren Sweetser) makes Lu feel, running off the way she did. Heary brings a toughness to the role that recalls a young Jennifer Lawrence, circa “The Poker House” or “Winter’s Bone,” though the part is written with relatively light conflict. Lu eats pancakes and learns to sail Pop’s single-person sailboat, spying on what others her age are doing around the lake (she sees the house-hosting sisters on a trampoline next door, but never winds up engaging with them).
Before the sort of adversity that might fuel a feature can arise, Falconer turns the audience’s attention to Jun (Jim Kaplan), one of the few Asian American kids at a prestigious “band camp,” where early success can pave the way for a career as a concert musician. His high-pressure tiger mom (Bella Shaw) insists that he be the best, although the way Jun eyes a popular rival (violinist Giovanni Mazza) across the cafeteria suggests either envy or attraction toward a kid to whom everything comes easy. This segment is the least developed of the four, but still resonates with emotions that most teens have probably experienced.
With a bit more writing, the “Two-Hearted” chapter that follows could probably support an entire film, as a single mom named Annie (Karsen Liotta) overhears Finn (Dominic Bogart), one of the regulars at the bar where she works, spinning tales of a giant fish he claims to have spotted in Green Lake. Finn’s friends refuse to take him seriously, but Annie is more idealistic, responding to something in the man’s personality. “When I die, nobody’s gonna remember me,” Finn complains, and the two talk of their legacies and what qualify as dreams in this small-pond environment, before stealing a harpoon and heading out to find what sounds a bit like Michigan’s Loch Ness Monster.
Their fate appears on the front page of the local paper in the final segment, which focuses on Blue Jay (Tenley Kellogg) and her older sister Robin (Emily Hall), who handle the cooking and housekeeping at a rustic B&B. They’re vaguely starstruck when a Hollywood screenwriter rents a room. While the adults relax, Blue Jay gently flirts with the celebrity guest’s teenage son (Ethan Stoddard).
There’s a wispy quality to this segment, based in memories of watching a family member leave home and wondering how your life might continue without them. Amid the muffin baking and omelet making, Falconer is careful about some details (the recipes, for example) but careless with others (what experienced cook buys eggs without checking to see if they’re broken?).
If the goal of “Sunfish” was to evoke Green Lake and the general feeling of her former Michigan home, the film accomplishes that with a certain mild-mannered charm. And yet, coming from a position where a certain comfort is taken for granted, it lacks the kind of drama one expects from a feature — and which must be just around the corner in every shot. Even mundane challenges, like paying the rent and keeping secrets when everyone’s nose is in his neighbor’s business, ought to be more exciting than the four vignettes Falconer has chosen. “Sunfish” unspools like a low-key vacation, but as stories worth retelling go, Green Lake undoubtedly has better options.
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