Time seems to happen all at once in director Robert Zemeckis’ latest film “Here,” which chronicles the generations of people that have lived in a single New England home. What’s notable, however, is how the camera is fixed to a single position throughout the entire runtime, without any jump cuts or shots in other locations. Each scene plays out as a singular long take before dissolving to another.
In keeping to a single position, the film attempts to display the passage of time through an incredibly narrow scope. Its intention is made clear, as it presents a dichotomy: a small plot of land, insurmountably important to many people over centuries of time.
But it doesn’t always impress. Prior to seeing the film, I had seen its trailer in a theater. After the gimmick of the film was recognized, my friend next to me turned and said, “Great, so we’ve reinvented the play.”
Beginning as far back as deemed necessary, the opening scene displays the extinction of the dinosaurs and an ensuing ice age, after which we rush forward to the last one hundred years of American society, where the majority of the narrative takes place. In these decades, the story transpires while only showing the events that have occurred within the living room of a single household.
While the script includes moments from pre-colonial America, the American Revolution, and the end of the Second World War, it mostly takes place in the decades leading up to the modern day. The film focuses primarily on Richard (Tom Hanks) and Margaret (Robin Wright), a young couple thrust into adulthood and subsequent parenthood, now looking back at their lives under the cover of a single roof.
The continuously restricted point of view leads the film to heavily rely on its narrative to compel the audience, with any and all direction opportunities taking a back seat. If anything, the feigned constant shot further pressures the script to supply us with enough to distract from the palpable visual stagnation. However, the recent effort of longtime collaborators Zemeckis and screenwriter Eric Roth provides occasionally stilted dialogue, as deliveries can feel archetypical and on the nose.
The grumpy grandfather, the overworked father, the hopeless mother: it’s assumed these are people we already know, people we can associate our own memories with. But as we jump back and forth through time, often cutting from emotional beats to comic vignettes, the film leaves gaps in these characters’ lives that result in a lack of specificity.
Outside of the few scenes that serve to provide hindsight-is-20/20 related gags, the crux of the narrative is comfortably familiar. Richard, the potential artist turned disgruntled salesman and Margaret, the bright-eyed young woman turned housewife, both experience how the practicalities of becoming adults bog down the possibilities of youth.
The reflective interactions and schmaltzy moments of familial life and times can seem trite, as the frequent allusions to how quickly the couple’s daughter has grown come off as heavy handed. However, the film does not always fail to come off as earnest, as Wright and Hanks display a compassion, no doubt built from years of experience—a commitment that can only come from decades of dedication.
Their archetypal characters, reflective of those you yourself might have been raised around, are given an added Zemeckis twinkle in the eye that pushes their heads just above the waters of stereotype. This is important, as anything less could undermine the film’s broad message. As the ending eventually goes to show, this film is about everyone, which runs the risk of leading someone to believe it is about no one.
The film serves as a major “Forrest Gump” reunion—a point the film’s various posters proudly point out—as Zemeckis directs actors Hanks and Wright, who deliver lines from an Eric Roth script, all scored to the notes of Alan Silvestri’s soothing theme. Both films touch on similar themes, as the characters in “Here” frequently remark on how time seems to slip by them over decades of American life. The narrative reflects this, as the film frequently moves back and forward in time, shifting between the stories of those who have lived in the home the camera is perpetually fixed in.
Zemeckis has never felt comfortable conforming to a single style of filmmaking. After defining the ‘80s blockbuster with “Romancing the Stone” and “Back to the Future,” Zemeckis seemingly became obsessed with special effects. He went on to direct the live-action/animated hybrid film “Who Framed Roger Rabbit,” a noir that placed real human performances and drawn Looney Tune-esque cartoon characters seamlessly next to one another, before pioneering performance capture techniques in movies such as “The Polar Express,” “Beowulf,” and “A Christmas Carol.” It seems every feature of his serves as a chance to reinvent his style and attempt to push the medium forward. In this respect, “Here,” is no different, as his minimalist approach to an already small-scale family odyssey argues for the sanctity of the places we call home.
Regarding Zemeckis’ habits, he simply cannot help but play around with modern-day tools at his disposal. In one instance, Wright ages rapidly as time skips forward, with Zemeckis utilizing state-of-the-art technology to digitally de-age Wright and Hanks while filming, instead of having to de-age them in post production. This, along with transitions between scenes that splice part of the film’s living room with other eras, phasing furniture or people into another time, gives the film an overtly digital glaze that at best can come off as hypnotizing, and at worst can come off as tacky.
Through its dramatic familial highlight reel, “Here” may not fully succeed in conveying the full emotional weight derived from three generations of an American family, despite its unique presentation, yet it serves as a contemplative reminder of the lives and memories embedded within the walls of a home. For better or worse, Zemeckis’ ambition to push cinematic boundaries is unmistakable. And at the very least, the film will have you wanting to give your grandparents that long, overdue phone call.
