Mark Reviews Movies: RUST CREEK

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Review by Mark Dujsik | January 4, 2019

The setup to the plot of Rust Creek seems overly familiar: A young woman finds herself lost in a remote, rural area, only to be confronted by some people with bad intentions in mind. The story itself begins as the usual tale of fighting against and hiding from nefarious backwoods types in an unforgiving locale, although it's a gripping example of such a story.

Julie Lipson's screenplay, though, isn't content to simply provide another foray into a tale of survival against the odds. That idea may remain the central through line here, but the story becomes a bit more than that. It plays with our expectations just enough, and in doing so, the film gives us different but complementary stories about two people trapped in this world of violence, corruption, and isolation with no exit in sight.

The initial protagonist is Sawyer (Hermione Corfield), who's in her final year of college and receives a promising job interview in Washington, D.C. With Thanksgiving approaching, she sets out on the long drive to the capital, but holiday traffic on the main highway, being the mess that it is, sends her looking for an alternate route through the backroads of Kentucky. A closed road brings Sawyer through a small town, made up of trailers and other types of mobile homes, where she happens upon a dead end.

There are two men—brothers Hollister (Micah Hauptman) and Buck (Daniel R. Hill)—in the distance, and after hearing the distinct sounds of shovels snatching and dumping dirt, we hear them, whispering about the stranger in the strange car just ahead of them. Has she seen what they're doing?

Down the road a ways, while Sawyer tries to make sense of an ungainly map of the state, Hollister and Buck pull up their pickup truck in front of her. They try to seem helpful, but their intentions are clear, especially with the way Hollister keeps asking what she's doing here and if she has seen anything odd. Sawyer tells the men that they're making her uncomfortable, and then, after getting between the young woman and her car door, Hollister grabs her.

By this point, it's almost a given as to where this story will lead, and sure enough, the men try to capture and/or kill Sawyer. One admires the ways in which Lipson establishes obvious obstacles, only to give the protagonist a fighting chance. First off, Sawyer is no damsel in distress. She's able to fight back against the men, giving Hollister a knee to the groin and a broken nose, until Buck pulls a knife. With a bad wound on her leg, she runs into the woods and gives her attackers the slip.

Sawyer is resourceful in simple ways, and Lipson's contrivances in ensuring that the character is at a distinct disadvantage mean little in the big picture of this section. Our protagonist leaves her cellphone in the car before the confrontation, but she gets it back. The screen is cracked, but it still works. She may not have a signal, but it's only a matter of finding one.

Within the bigger picture of the full story, this section ultimately means little, except to establish the stakes and that Sawyer might be capable of surviving this ordeal on her own. Instead of merely following through on the obvious plot and character dynamics of the first act (Sawyer has to evade and potentially fight Hollister and Buck in the forest), Lipson introduces a few characters who change our perception of this backdrop—with its seemingly straightforward hopelessness and cruelty. There's the local Sheriff (played by Sean O'Bryan), who might be Sawyer's means of rescue if he can find the motivation, and there's also his deputy (played by Jeremy Glazer), who seems like a bumbling archetype—until it becomes clear that he might be the only person in authority who actually cares about finding the missing woman.

Of primary importance, though, is Lowell (Jay Paulson), Hollister and Buck's meth-cooking cousin, who finds an unconscious Sawyer in the woods and brings her back to his trailer. He seems helpful, but we've seen that serve as a trick from his kin. Plus, there's the fact that Lowell eventually ties up Sawyer. He says it's for her own good, but it certainly doesn't look that way.

Lowell doesn't necessarily become a second protagonist here, but his life, akin to being a prisoner to his drug-dealing cousins (who are, to a much lesser extent, prisoners of their own boss), certainly becomes of secondary importance to the story. He hasn't had many options in life, coming up in poor in a remote and impoverished area, and for all of his blatant mistakes in trying to keep Sawyer safe, Lipson, Paulson, and director Jen McGowan imbue this lonely man—apparently destined by circumstances to retain this lot in life—with a surprising level of sympathy. In fact, he may overtake Sawyer, who becomes quite static in terms of development and action (until the climax), within the narrative, which is unfortunate, considering how strongly the character begins.

The plot unfolds with revelations about a conspiracy and a hidden villain (It may be the most obvious candidate, but the performance of the actor—all down-home politeness, even when planning or performing murders on the fly—isn't), but the story is more focused on the unlikely connections and bond that forms between Sawyer and Lowell. They're both resourceful. They're both clever. They're both trapped by forces beyond their control. Rust Creek may start by taking us down what seems to be a clear and predictable path, but it admirably turns into something more thoughtful and character-focused than we expect.

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