"Sharp Corner" revolves around the story of a family with a toddler that decides to leave the city life behind and buy a nice house in the countryside. The price was appealing. They soon find out on the first night exactly why. Roughly 100 meters away, the house is situated next to a tight turn in a two-way road that runs through tall grass fields. There is a sign warning drivers about the sharp turn ahead. However, it is concealed by shrubbery, and even if it weren’t, it’s likely that speeding drivers wouldn't be able to slow down in time to avoid a collision.
The first crash sets the family on a spiral. Then another one. Each crash or near-miss further alienates the family, gradually eroding the sense of security that home offers. The father, Josh McCall (Ben Foster), becomes fixated on training himself to deal with the next attempted rescue, envisioning some sort of heroic dash to retrieve the survivors. The mother, Rachel (Cobie Smulders), endures the tension for a while, then begins agitating to sell the house and relocate. The son, Max (William Kosovic), starts as a cherished little boy - yes, the kid is a bit spoiled and a tad entitled, but generally, he's sweet. Still, he becomes internalized to the violence to the extent that he begins staging violent miniature reenactments of crashes.
Perhaps you’re thinking to yourself, “It certainly sounds dramatic and engaging, and I’m sure it’s a solid movie, but no thanks.” That is understandable. This film goes to disturbingly dark places, especially as the focus sharpens on Josh and we watch his uncomfortable transformation. The effort to try and save everyone, no matter how misguided, is deeply human and suggests the presence of redeeming qualities that could be heroic. Josh’s biggest struggle, however, is trying to build his entire life around the possibility—or in his mind, the inevitability—of the next crash. He starts by enrolling in CPR classes, buying his own training dummy, and even attending the funeral for one of the victims.
“Sharp Corner” scrutinizes Josh’s transformation with a blend of sympathy and clinical detachment. Foster's performance grounds the character in believable humanity. He always just seems like a guy who is experiencing something terrible, rather than a sociological specimen or allegory of our contemporary malaise. The film is about a lot of things. One is what we do with the knowledge that we and everyone we know will die at some point, and there’s no way to foresee or stop it.
Foster, one of the most remarkable actors in modern film, is astounding in what may be his most unanticipated role in years. He has one of those looks which make him ideal for portrayals of dangerously violent characters, whether excruciatingly cruel (“Alpha Dog”) and morally indignant (“Hell or High Water”), dutifully wounded (“Leave No Trace”), or instinctively noble beyond the character’s self-awareness (“Galveston”). The driving motive of the character here, in a departure from much of Foster's work, is to render aid, not annihilation or violence, which puts this performance on a different wavelength than a lot of the others.
Another notable difference stands out because, with all the crime thrillers he has done, Foster is convincing as a man who may never have thrown a punch in his life. Josh has a paunch and slumps. He has an awkward gait as well, which doesn’t help. He’s balding on top. His speech is soft and somewhat whiny. His calmness, on the other hand, casts a judging light. There’s something about him that makes people think he is self-regarded, without him being so. Even his politeness comes across as strategic maneuvering. At times, it truly is.
Josh was bothered with the boy’s death and how it impacted him deeply. He and Rachel have a dinner for couples from the old neighborhood. Josh tells their guests about the shrine at the corner commemorating the victim of the family’s first crash. We even saw him browsing social media while he was supposed to be working in an office. After dinner, though, Rachel scolds him. She tells him that he spent the entire evening pretending to be morally better than everyone else, to explain an overlong diatribe during what was meant to be a pleasant dinner. “You smug,” she says. Does he? Or does he simply appear that way?
Smulders matches Foster’s exacting precision and concentration, though she starts to fade as Josh’s frenetic energy escalates and his decisions worsen. To be fair, she doesn’t know how much he suffers because he’s hiding that from her, EMT uniforms and glue. Rachel loves Josh, but is realizing that she’s starting to think she can’t live with him. His work performance is crumbling, and his parenting choices are reckless. It just wouldn’t work like this.
Are they bound to separate? These knowns and unknowns are all defined, or at least hinted at, but you have to pay attention to see them. Nothing is spelled out, even in therapy scenes.
This movie demonstrates some of the most realistic and detailed husband-wife dialogues one could come across. They aren’t especially clever or eloquent and aren’t trying to be. They just sound like people talking, in the way that these types of people would talk. As noted earlier, unless absolutely necessary, they try to keep things at room temperature. They usually try not to raise their voices. They want their son to feel nurtured, in a loving and calm atmosphere. However, their interactions and conversations have a level of calculated hostility typically hidden in plain sight that few would recognize such lack of signs within the home. For instance, Josh picking Rachel up from work and she’s a few minutes late to which he sardonically suggests they “bite the bullet” and buy a second car. Rachel retorts with, “Are you saying that because I’m a few minutes late?” He swears that he isn’t, but we know that he is.
“Sharp Corner” is remarkable for the symmetric framing of the shots in addition to its careful dissection of a family unit in disarray. Each shot contained several planes of information, leaving it up to us to decide where to cast our gaze. The camera moves a lot but mostly in a slow and purposeful manner; for example, to reveal or cover something up or build tension. The mid-70s American New Wave vibe on Guy Godfree’s cinematography feels rich and clear, even in the dark scenes. Every shot never too beautiful. Rather, the intent is to make the viewer feel as though they inhabit that little world. The precision of the geometry of the shots paired with the placement of sound cues varies with intention, creating a strong sense of being within that house and instinctively understanding what moments signify peace and when trouble lurks. The sound design is masterful, unveiling more detail once the initial layer is peeled back, regardless of the stage of the story. After some time, the pace of an approaching vehicle can be discerned from its audible cue alone.
The melancholy score of Stephen McKeon transitions into a mournful tune which then spirals into a magnificent lament. As the scene intensifies and becomes more dire, horns join in, getting increasingly louder. Much like the way Howard Shore scores for David Cronenberg, or Carter Burwell for the Coen Bros. and vice versa, those combinations strike us in roughly the same manner. While what is happening on screen might be, for most people, inconsequential and at times laughably absurd, the music finds beauty in it—literally, an ironic requiem for lives shattered (and twisted) by their own design, fate’s design, or a combination of both.
With the use of Spielberg’s, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” imagine the life of a UFO, countryside encountering working adults fighting to comprehend the exact details of a miracle taking place. For those who haven't watched it yet, I strongly recommend it. Somehow, “Sharp Corners” resonates as an unusual second feature, not because the two films are parallel to each other - although, I must say that Foster does look like Dreyfus from some angles - and both include the scene of an unhinged paterfamilias attempting to persuade his family not to drive away and leave him stranded in the middle of nowhere. It’s because both deal with people having rare, random opportunities presented to them more than once, and as a result, they over-commit themselves to obsessively productive endeavors. To clarify visions, Roy creates sculptures. Josh takes a lifesaving class, followed by practicing chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. All nightlong, both men wait staring at a bend in the road for the lights to resurface.
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