Sunlight Jr. | Review

Bleak House: Collyer Returns to the Slipping Down Life

After her fantastic 2006 directorial debut, Sherrybaby, director Laurie Collyer returns with a sophomore feature, Sunlight Jr., which sees a return to similar themes of downtrodden events in the lives of the economically disadvantaged, as crafted around a strong central female vantage point. As such, it also belongs to a certain subset of indie cinema featuring A list beauties made plain (or as plain as one can try to make them) in working class roles with lives dictated by the trap of minimum wage. Here we have Naomi Watts in another sterling performance in a role that’s the seeming antithesis to her stint as Princess Di in the anticipated biopic that drops next month. But the highest praise here should be reserved for Collyer, once again proving she’s adept at capturing a believable portrait of people living day by day through rough times and desperate moments.

Melissa (Naomi Watts) works as a cashier in convenience store called Sunlight Jr. Currently in a relationship with Richie (Matt Dillon), who is a paraplegic subtly flirting with out of control alcoholism, their lives depend largely on his monthly disability checks while Melissa seems to walk a fine line in her interactions with an inappropriate boss, a man that tolerates her chronic lateness so he can get away with verbal harassment. Life suddenly seems complicated when Melissa’s violent ex Justin (Norman Reedus) suddenly starts stalking her again in a vapid attempt to win her back, a plan that seems mostly borne out of hatred for the crippled Richie. An unexpected pregnancy seems to be the beginning of an end, causing an irreconcilable situation at work, and an endless cascade of spiraling indignities as Melissa is forced to bring Richie to stay with her alcoholic mother Kathleen (Tess Harper), a woman that lives off meager checks she receives in barely caring for a gaggle of foster kids. Oh, and Justin is Kathleen’s landlord. Finally, Melissa has to realistically consider whether she can properly care for a baby with Richie.

Kudos to Collyer for not veering the material into a manipulative hyper drive. Sunlight Jr., rather, feels like the bleak metaphor its title implies, as faded dreams, broken childhoods, and unexpected curveballs from the insistently resurfacing past parade across the screen. While the film certainly snowballs into a finale built upon a heap of miseries, Collyer’s film never feels absolutely devoid of hope. Instead, Watts gives a wonderfully underplayed performance of a woman that has the ability to make her own informed, matter of fact choices while she’s stuck in an existence that’s hardly ideal.

Dillon turns in an uncustomary performance as a down and out loser, who conveys a likeable chemistry with Watt’s Melissa, even if she perhaps would be better off without him. While Reedus is in unhinged seedy mode, Collyer gives Tess Harper a great supporting role as a soft-hearted drunk, sadly moving in her drunken recollections of her daughter’s youth as children crawling with bed bugs are littered around her. Broken systems and busted dreams, which were the defining aspects of Sherrybaby, are also center stage here. Even if it’s the continuing benchmark of her material, let’s just hope it’s not another seven years before another Laurie Collyer film.