In the Family, first-time writer-director Patrick Wang's account of a gay man's struggle to obtain custody rights over his late partner's little boy, made headlines as the most unfairly overlooked indie drama of 2011. It was rejected from dozens of film festivals and had a difficult time finding national theatrical distribution, yet won acclaim and drew comparison to Cassavetes in such publications as The New York Times and Variety. Although this praise seems slightly effusive, given the fact that the movie falls short of perfection, the film does represent a remarkable achievement on many levels, particularly as a debut.
The story takes place in contemporary Tennessee. Wang himself stars as Joey Williams, an Asian-American contractor in a long-term romantic relationship with a young widower father, Cody Hines (Trevor St. John). The two share responsibility for Cody's six-year-old son Chip, and Joey has become Chip's de facto second dad. When Cody suddenly perishes in an automobile accident, however, it appears that his biological family will inevitably take responsibility for the child, and that Joey has no legal ground to stand on.
From a technical standpoint, the picture is audacious and gutsy; Wang brings home truths about the characters by using radical blocking and shot choices of the type rarely glimpsed in a mainstream feature. For instance, he often films himself and St. John in full shot, at a great distance, positioned at the very edge of the frame -- echoing the gay couple's shared social marginalization. And in the events leading up to the custody battle, Wang films himself from behind, center frame, facing the others he's addressing -- as if the character is taking on the world. These techniques may seem disorienting at first, but their effectiveness grows on the viewer, and they feel more and more fluid and ingenious as the director's methods sink in. Most of the performances also achieve greatness. Wang is clearly an actor's director -- he demonstrates an adroit hand with his supporting cast and coaxes outstanding work from them, across the board. In particular, Brian Murray (who reminds one of Charles Durning) wins the audience's heart as a benevolent attorney who takes Joey under his wing, and Park Overall is a standout as Cody's incapacitated mother. Even the incidental players, the ones who only appear for a minute or two, deliver remarkable evocations -- such as Gina Tognoni, in a one-scene contribution as an R.N. who puts her job safety on the line by attempting to facilitate visitation between Joey and Cody against hospital orders, just prior to Cody's death. The level of this and other performances in the picture make one of its central weaknesses that much more ironic: if the supporting players never fail to convince us, Wang himself seems frequently wooden and remote, and incapable of handling the dramatic burden that he has taken on.
As for the picture's narrative arc: Wang fares best in the middle passages, where he operates in an arena of ethical murkiness that would have delighted Cassavetes. Particularly effective are the scenes involving Joey's initial confrontation with Cody's sister, Eileen (Kelly McAndrew). Although she's resolutely opposed to Joey's custody of Chip, her attitude doesn't seem engendered by homophobia or any other sort of prejudice; rather, it seems born out of the fact that Cody's will and testament specifically grant custody of Chip to the biological family. Eileen simply wants to respect her late brother's wishes, which is understandable and relatable. (At one point, she even asks Joey, "Cody had eight years to change the will, and didn't modify a word…what does that tell you?") At about the same time in the narrative, Wang begins to depict his character's relationship with Cody in flashbacks, and those sequences also introduce uncertainties regarding the unusual emotional dynamic between Cody and Joey, which neatly feed into the question of why Cody omitted Joey from the will and failed to take care of the custody issue.
These scenes are tantalizing, which makes the moralism of the final act too black-and-white, too clean-cut. If Wang really wanted to challenge the audience, he could raise much thornier issues than he does; instead, the picture regresses into a legal battle-of-wills that seems tailor-made for a movie of the week. And the film's ending -- including a surprise, last-second revelation -- is pat, cloying and unconvincing.
To be abundantly clear, however, In the Family doesn't deserve the obscurity thrust onto it, and it does demonstrate the formidable range and breadth of the multifaceted Wang's ability. He's capable of achieving cinematic sublimity, but he may need to step down from essaying lead roles himself and attain a bit more confidence in regard to navigating ambiguities onscreen. If he does so, he could well become the next cause célèbre of American independent cinema.