Review: “Ballast” LAFF 08

A majority of films set in the south of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama tend to extol the culture that abounds there as a centerpiece to their stories. Be it colorful, warm characters or the heavy presence of blues, gospel or soul music, more often than not we are swept up in the lively backdrop of celebratory spirit. What a surprise then to find Lance Hammer’s Ballast almost completely bereft of music, save for a single song playing within one of the scenes. Here we are presented with perhaps a tonally-perfect film, not gambling on an audience’s love of familiar territories, but through the cold, silent landscapes of the Mississippi Delta in winter. Yet, it will be familiar to any who have truly lived in these moments, from the long expanse of the highways between neighbors’ homes, to the quiet, still mornings spent alone under a slate gray sky. As powerful as its settings are, Ballast’s strengths go beyond its well-maintained environments to the many broken hearts that inhabit them.

Following a young boy named James in the aftermath of his father’s death, we witness the accoutrements of his youth; a cold and broken landscape full of derelicts. Observe his uncle, Lawrence, twin brother to the deceased, sitting alone in the house he shares with the body, silently moving through the past in his mind until a neighbor discovers him. Lawrence’s only action to is shoot himself in the chest upon his discovery, and when he is eventually returned home from the hospital, he is only a piece of lung less than he was before. James takes the gun in his uncle’s absence and begins to rob him on a near daily basis, Lawrence giving in to this act of emotional violence as his only interaction with the world. Then there is James’ mother Marlee, long separated from her ex-husband and the apparent cause of his suicidal woe, having threatened to keep him away from an already distant son. These are the three lives which intersect and collide and sometimes tend to each others wounds, inflicting new pain upon what is existent and struggling for any sense of stability in the absence of purpose.

Lance Hammer, returning to Mississippi again after 2002’s Issaquena, is incredibly precise in his direction here, the performances hitting every mark. Shot at an emotional arm’s-length from its characters, never manipulating the audience with emotional crests of music or pandering to a desire for a more traditional story pace, Ballast is twice as powerful for its restraint. As Marlee and Lawrence attempt to repair the bonds that pushed brother against wife, James floats through the film as a revelation unto himself. His young life perhaps has the most to lose of any, and those in charge of his future fight for that potential every inch of the way. The lives here are represented with such unflinching honesty that it is often difficult to watch, be it verbal attacks or the reckless physical violence of some supporting characters. The film’s only minor stumble, a slightly predictable decision from one of its characters towards its climax is quickly swept up in the sure-footed and legitimately beautiful last scenes. Ballast is a true vote for understatement in a film, doing so much more with less than any of the bombastic summer films that are filling the screens right now. As the lives it depicts unfold onscreen, the power of character is king and here it captivates in every aching moment.

[rating: 4.5/5]