One of the most deadpan American comedies that ever deadpanned its way through an airy, 16mm, early 90s production. Writer/director Kelly Reichardt’s first film pretty much sneaks the laughs to us in a sealed envelope, passed in secret.
The setting: one of the shittiest neighborhoods in the Florida everglades.
The characters: a couple of broke, directionless amateurs at life.
The situation: While toting a gun that accidentally goes off in the middle of the night, these two THINK they’ve committed murder. Now, they’re on the run.
But they don’t know how to be on the run. They also don’t know how to steal. They don’t even have money for the toll road to get out of town. Four miles away from home, they’re totally lost.
Still, they’re on the run, as long as you relax your interpretation of the phrase.
These two are so bad at their new roles in life, that their misadventure doesn’t even qualify as a crime movie. Instead, River of Grass has to settle for being merely a witty, scathing and uncomfortably real piece about escape and having no idea how to do it. This should have been a classic of the day’s independent film boom, but it slipped clear through the cracks. Reichardt kept making terrific films though, which helped earn her first feature a deserved restoration and re-release twenty years later.