That an actor's physical stature
should have no bearing on exceptional dramatic talent is plenty
evident in the 4'-5" frame of Peter Dinklage, whose incredibly
unassuming, introspective presence in Tom McCarthy's The
Station Agent borders on stoic epiphany. A big three-time winner
at the Sundance Film Festival, here is a film with talent,
sophistication, humor, and sensitivity rolled into a joyous,
grief-cleansing, heart-lifting 90 minutes that earns both good
word-of-mouth and positions itself for year-end acclaim on more than
a handful of top-ten best lists. McCarthy, heretofore a Broadway
actor who has also been a series regular on Boston
Public and appeared on Ally
McBeal, The Practice, and Law &
Order: SVU, makes a surprisingly assured debut as a first-time
feature director-writer. He's penned a dandy of a script and
garnered memorable performances from Dinklage, Paula Clarkson, and
Bobby Cannavale as the core triumvirate in a tale of despair,
isolation, awkwardness, and from-the-emotional-ashes friendship in a
small New Jersey town, appropriately named Newfoundland. McCarthy
even manages to end the film at just the right moment.
Dinklage, who made a strong
impression in his first film role nearly a decade ago (Tom DiCillo's
hilariously dark comedy Living
in Oblivion), and is a regular on the New York stage, also has a
brief yet powerfully malevolent bit in Will Ferrell's holiday
one-joke shtick-fest Elf.
In The Station Agent, he's
Finbar (Fin, for short) McBride, a reclusive dwarf fascinated by
trains and their lore, yet never a passenger. After inheriting a
derelict train depot that once served a once-proud community, he
literally walks to his new home, traveling south from Hoboken along
the railroad right-of-way. He's frugal and doesn't work, not that
he's concerned about being without job (it's never mentioned);
there's more time for train watching, rail walking, and reading. He
spouts arcane facts about the iron horse, and its historical
significance to our country's growth, to anyone willing to listen,
although he has a particularly hard time with a class of elementary
children more interested in blimps. Fin's reluctant to develop
relationships, lest he be spurned or ridiculed. It's been a rough
life, and apparently he likes to stay under the radar. When he's too
fed up with the supermarket stares and the Snow White remarks, he
unleashes his anger at the local bar, hoping the snickering and
whispers will finally stop.
His isolated bubble is quickly popped by Joe Oramas (Cannavale), a Manhattanite-in-exile tending to his ailing father's "Georgeous Frank's" hot dog and cafe con leche truck, which sits across the road from the depot. When Fin moves in, the loquacious Joe, ever starved for a faster paced lifestyle or anyone with an ounce of intelligence to converse with, shows immediate interest in his new neighbor, to the point of tag-along, I'll-buy-the-beer ingratiating dialogue. A daily visitor to the truck is Olivia Harris (Clarkson), a mother and separated wife, still grieving two years after the death of her young son. She paints her grief in oils on canvas. Her introduction to Fin is priceless. Driving her Jeep SUV, she's preoccupied with her spilled drink or dropped item and TWICE nearly runs the clearly bewildered pedestrian off the road.
The characters quickly weave
themselves into a odd friends society, opening and closing their
hearts, and ultimately offering grown-up compassion and camaraderie.
Even the supporting cast, particularly Raven Goodwin (Lovely
and Amazing) and Michelle Williams (Dawson's
Creek, Dick), as a
bemused school girl and a local librarian attracted to Fin's chin
and kindness, help shape The
Station Agent's comfortable, well-worn, favorite-jeans feel.
They're extended family -- not blood related, but still experiencing
that type of closeness and growth. Maybe that's why Joe is
constantly calling Fin his "bro."
Review by Joe Oramas · Nitrate Online
