Film Review — "Break on Through"
Something has happened. A woman drives a Jeep, whose gas gage needle dances dangerously close to the E, through the countryside with a boy in the backseat. And something is wrong. We don’t know exactly what’s going on in the world, but it’s clear that it’s not good. Atmospheric dins seldom are—such beautiful landscapes have never felt so ghostly.
Amber Bissonnette plays Dillon. She and the child pull off at a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere—seemingly miles from another living soul. Turns out, they aren’t the only ones who thought it’d be wise to seek refuge on this rural property. Five strangers have also converged here: a man separated from his family, a father-daughter pair, and a young couple.
With no one else to lean on, these seven individuals have no choice but to pool their resources and rely upon one another—a notion that proves difficult for some—if they hope to survive.
Bissonnette is a beacon. Her performance moors Break on Through. When we meet Dillon, she’s hardened by her circumstances—a person whose guard is always up. She never stops being tough, yet her one-on-one exchanges with her cohabitants deepen the character’s three-dimensionality as we see different sides of Dillon. Plus, her dynamic with her juvenile companion, played by Minyang Dau, is especially wonderful.
Dau, in his own unique way, is a standout. His quiet yet direct performance reads as effortless at first glance, but rest assured this character is deceptively complex, as is Dau’s portrayal—which commands your attention. He draws you in—not with showy gestures, but with a confident stillness.
Likewise, Break on Through is a film that demands your trust. It’d be easy to say the film is ambiguous—a label often bestowed upon works of art that refuse to spell everything out. Akin to a great piece of devised theatre, the film is specific enough in its execution for a viewer to apply a specific meaning to the story—but indefinite enough so that others may come up with their own concrete readings. The interpretations are infinite.
Some might describe the pace as slow, but I’d call it meditative. Like many films set in a single pastoral dwelling as the world unravels, Break on Through reminds me of George A. Romero’s masterpiece Night of the Living Dead—just omit the zombies and throw in… ominous sky noises. But instead of giving us an obvious menace scratching at boarded up windows, screenwriter Matt Grue focuses on the terror within.
Grief. Trauma. Nightmares. You didn’t think a worldwide cataclysmic event was the only conflict, did you? Because these characters have to deal with inner demons, too! Dillon in particular. Perhaps the most resonant scene in the film is an existential one of Dillon’s, in the shower, confronting and succumbing to her memories. Bissonnette and director Dustin Clark handle the haunting material delicately and with tons of heart.
But things aren’t always so graceful, however. A shift occurs in the final act with the introduction of a new, otherworldly stranger, played by Christoff Lundgren. Lundgren is a fiery performer, that much is abundantly clear. I would not be surprised if he’s played his share of Shakespearean villains on the stage—because the man can chew. Although his may be the most heavy-handed and unorthodox performance, it… kinda works, considering the hellish nature of the character, and the apocalyptic stakes.
I’d imagine these final scenes—and the conclusion—are where Clark is bound to lose some of the more conventional moviegoers. But those who admire an intellectual exercise with their popcorn certainly won’t mind.
Break on Through is a daring film. There’s a modern theatricality to its presentation—yet, that’s not to say that it’s stagy. Dustin Clark and his team merely feel free of the standard (tired) Hollywood formulas. Simply put, Break on Through is not afraid to tell its story its way. And I think that’s rad.
