By David Dent
There’s something rotten in the state of America – well certainly in Illinois, the state in which Ponderosa is located. The name reaches back into history but, for the purposes of Rob Rice’s satirical movie is one given to a chain of family buffet restaurants.
Young Zeke (Jack Dylan Grazer) lives with his often ill mother Sandra (Alexis Bledel), who works at the restaurant and has raised her son alone; it’s a fact that hasn’t escaped the rather creepy attention of George (Bill Camp), a Ponderosa regular. Although Sandra and Zeke’s blue collar existence doesn’t allow for many frills – and mum is often exhausted at the end of her shift – the pair get along ok. That is until they receive news that the restaurant is to close. George sees an opportunity to inveigle himself into their lives, offering Zeke employment (which he can scarce afford to refuse) and generally playing the missing dad role. But George’s motivations aren’t entirely philanthropic; there are players behind the scenes (and in plain sight) looking to influence events, while Zeke benignly leads himself into George’s world.
On the plus side, Ponderosa’s biggest success is its sustained atmosphere of polite malaise. Filmed in a clean static style that emphasises vast skies and isolated housing, the Illinois of the film is as soulless as the inhabitants in front of us. These days most films made in the US are examined for ‘Trumpian’ elements, and the role of (Republican) men in 21st Century is clearly under the microscope here; and Rice clearly feels his country wanting, judging by the movie’s confusing end coda.
Unfortunately the atmosphere is compromised by a too slight script and a 45 minute idea stretched just that bit too long. It’s all pleasantly wonky – and occasionally sinister and plain weird – but there’s not enough to get hold of to sustain interest, despite a standout performance by Camp which ups the cringe to almost unbearable levels.
Bloody Flicks 