It’s hard not to draw comparisons between writer and director CJ Renner’s “Morelife” and Frank Capra’s 1946 classic “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
In the Christmastime favorite, Jimmy Stewart, driven to desperation by the woes of the Depression, prepares to throw himself from a bridge before being stopped by an angel who ultimately convinces him that his life has too much purpose to toss away. In “Morelife,” a young man named Shawn, weighed down by the world, prepares to throw himself from a bridge only to be interrupted by… a fish man. Oh, and he’s there to throw himself in, too.
There’s an obvious irony present in the comparison; to say nothing about the death of American spirituality in the last 80 years, even our creature-feature curiosities are ready to off themselves nowadays.
The pair decide to put off the deed for the night, at least, and rather than whisk Shawn (Jackson Whitman) off on a journey that will uncover the meaning in his life, angel-style, the older marine man, named Kermit (Clayne Crawford) convinces him to search for something simpler: a rare morel mushroom, the taste of which they skeptically believe may add meaning to their lives.
The film may not end with much clarity or Jimmy-Stewart jubilation, but the ensuing odyssey they take across the Minnesota countryside is still pretty wonderful all the same.
The story, which starts on what is presumably one of the Twin Cities’ many major bridges, soon winds down the Minnesota highway, hitting stops like Duluth and an awfully familiar-looking art institute. They even visit the Largest Ball of Twine, which, true to life, is the low point of the trip and leaves them more forlorn than ever. It’s refreshing to see classic road-trip movie antics set against a Minnesota backdrop, even if one driver has gills.
Crawford takes the role seriously, and the inspiration for expressive, full-body acting from sitcom characters and silent film stars he alluded to in the post-film Q&A shines through. The character takes a second to get used to — especially given how we first meet him — but his physicality and comedic timing soon had the packed audience rippling with laughter despite no change to the rubber mask he was wearing.
Whitman meets the task of both acting with Crawford face-to-fish and elevating his portrayal beyond a cliche “mentally ill young man.” Renner said after the film that he sees himself in both lead characters, and there’s a charming hint of maturity written into Shawn’s character in the same way there’s an underlying vaudeville silliness to the more put-together Kermit.
As director, Renner is no Frank Capra, but Capra also never filmed a fish man having a three-way in a hotel room, so it’s fair to say that the comparison has outlived its usefulness. The direction is otherwise well-stated and authentic. For a film that must balance both its characters’ suicidality and their propensity to joke about it, Renner nails the tonal flip-flop, even if some of the writing can veer toward distractingly self-aware.
The whole package really shines in several low-key montages: one early scene of the duo stumbling into a kids’ birthday party at a roller rink does a remarkable job of selling Whitman’s character as a lost young soul before we even learn his motivation for suicide. I dare say that if I found myself reliving my seventh birthday party in some random small town I’d get pretty existential about it, too.
However, that also underlines “Morelife”’s biggest blind spot; it’s hardly an inviting emotional experience.
The opening shot of the film is the back of Shawn’s head as he stands on the bridge, already about to plunge into the dark river beneath, and that’s about as much relatability as you’ll get from him or Kermit, even as the story strides into deeper emotional territory in the third act.
We get some convincing monologues from both men about what led them to the bridge, but they’re told at us. The characters are otherwise held at a distance, and any time we spend alone with either often devolves into cliches, opportunities for a cheap laugh or both.
There’s a potentially interesting commentary in its treatment of suicide as a blasé casualty of modern living throughout — like I said, things have gotten so bad that even the Creature from the Black Lagoon needs an intervention — but it tangles that message with an understandable desire to humanize its leads, even though neither approach bears much fruit, or mushroom, by the end.
“Morelife” was a film created to actualize an important sentiment about the shaky justification for our own lives and the need for connection that trumps our need to understand, and the result is vibrant and authentic. Its lacking focus fails to crystallize any real truth from its story, but that doesn’t mean the film’s humanity — or fishiness — doesn’t shine through wonderfully at every interval.
I won’t speak for every audience member, but if I had to summarize TCFF’s reaction? “It’s a Minnesota Nice Life,” after all.
Kevin Lynch can be reached at lync1832@stthomas.edu.
