Conversations With Myself: We Go Way Back

We Go Way Back
(Lynn Shelton, 2006, USA, 80 minutes)

It must be something in the air. 

First, there was 2004 romantic comedy 13 Going on 30 with Jennifer Garner and Christa B. Allen. Then a few weeks ago, pop star Pink released I'm Not Dead, featuring "Conversations With My 13 Year Old Self." A case could also be made for the 2003 Freaky Friday remake with Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan. When the two switch places, the middle-aged mom remembers what it's like to be a teenager, while the daughter finds out what it's like to be an adult. Empathy ensues.

Now in this local feature, writer/director Lynn Shelton posits a situation in which the "13-year-old self" (Maggie Brown) of 23-year-old Kate (the appealing Amber Hubert) goes from being a distant memory to a living, breathing presence. Whether fans of mainstream entertainments, like any of the above, will take to it with the same degree of enthusiasm, I couldn't say--though it would be cool if they did. What interests me more is that these female artists are all tackling the same basic idea, but in different ways.

As We Go Way Back begins, Kate has broken up with her boyfriend and is wandering from tryst to tryst, but not connecting with anyone. Most of her attentions are concentrated on the play she's working on, Ibsen's Hedda Gabler (just as Shelton did in actual fact). The production gets increasingly convoluted as rehearsals continue, resulting in funny scenes sure to feel familiar to anyone who's ever worked in the theater--even dilettantes like myself, who were only involved with the occasional high school production.

This confluence of events--the breakup, the play, her 23rd birthday--is pulling Kate back to the past and she keeps reading through the letters she wrote to her older self at 13. Her current life isn't a bad one (dig that cozy Ballard bachelorette pad), but the confidence she once felt has dimmed over the
years. As these encouraging words from her younger, more assured self continue to invade her consciousness, she starts to dream about the person she used to be until one day, that person materializes in the flesh.

Kate is freaked out, to say the least. At first, she tries to distance herself from this small, persistent person, but something keeps drawing her back. "Little Kate," after all, means her no harm; she just wants the best for her older self. At this point, a couple of other movies came to mind: Nicolas Roeg's 1973 Don't Look Now and Jonathan Glazer's 2004 Birth.

There is, of course, a difference between seeing someone who isn't there, as in Ron Howard's 2001 A Beautiful Mind, and seeing someone who is--but isn't what they appear to be. In the Roeg film, Donald Sutherland keeps seeing his dead daughter wandering around the canals of Venice. At the end, he catches up with her. Bad move! In the Glazer film, 10-year-old Sean (Cameron Bright) convinces Nicole Kidman he's her late husband, Joseph. Sean's a real boy, but is he really her husband? And if so, how can that be?

In the production notes, Shelton explains the thinking behind her central conceit:

Feeling a little lost, she [the woman in her 20s] seeks direction from those around her and expends enormous amounts of energy fulfilling the needs of everyone but herself--particularly men... What breaks my heart about it is that it was not a lack self-direction and self-respect but rather a loss. At 13, I possessed a clarity of vision and a degree of self-confidence that I marvel at today. Somehow, the experience of adolescence stole it all away and it took me years--decades, really--to get it back again.

Like Roeg and Glazer, who are exploring the delusional ways some adults deal with loss, Shelton finds a unique way to bring this idea to life and her touch is never heavy-handed. That said, if you let yourself get hung up on the idea that this kid actually exists, her film isn't for you--in which case, you might also want to avoid the cinema of Federico Fellini, Luis Buñuel, and Claire Denis. I should add that Variety's Dennis Harvey described it as "vague" and "weightless," leading me to believe that women will find the film more substantial than men, but I would love to be proven wrong.

While We Go Way Back is lighter than Don't Look Now or Birth, it too discourages passive viewing, and as much as I enjoyed Freaky Friday, the movie did all the heavy-lifting for me. In that sense, I was reminded of Kelly Reichardt's recent Old Joy, which also takes place in the Pacific Northwest and revolves around a couple of thirtysomethings revisiting a friendship that will never be what it once was. The two would make for a nifty double bill.

Although I wouldn't say I saw myself in Kate, she felt as real to me as the scruffy characters in Reichardt's sophomore feature, and I was moved by her dilemma. I mean, what would you do if confronted by your younger self? (Or the older, creepier version of someone who used to a big part of your life?) Heck, I would want to run away, too. Shelton's point is that some degree of confrontation or reconciliation is necessary to move forward. We Go Way Back features a score from Laura Viers and songs by the Decemberists, the Lights, and other local favorites. I love this film.

We Go Way Back plays the Egyptian on June 13 at 9:30pm and June 17 at 1:30pm. Director scheduled to attend both screenings. Images from The New York Times (Maggie Brown and Amber Hubert), Rotten Tomatoes (Brown), and Mastering Modernity (Hedda Gabler).