(4.5 / 5)
James White, the film, is the directorial debut of James Mond, third member of the Borderline Collective (he worked as producer on Sean Durkin’s Martha Marcy May Marlene and Antonio Campos’ Simon Killer).
James White, the character, stunningly captured by Chris Abbott, is a twenty-something washout whose look recalls both Josh Hartnett and Kit Harrington. James White is self-satisfied — he bobs along to Ray Charles’ “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying” through headphones while club music whines around him like electronic insects. James White is self-complacent — he spends his nights drinking and hooking up, and his days recuperating on the couch. James White is self-deluding — he claims he’s only been staying with his mum, the fragile but dignified Gail (Cynthia Nixon), due to her ongoing illness.
James White is self-righteous, though not without reason — he goes off at a mourner who’s sitting Shiva for James’ estranged father for putting Gail through a video of the deceased’s second wedding. James White is self-jeopardizing — he makes it almost impossible for a well-meaning family friend (played by Ron Livingston) to employee him, despite his supposed talent as a writer. James White is self-absorbed —he’s not always there when he’s needed, even for those who love him most.
James White is also loyal — he doesn’t hesitate to throw himself in a barroom scuffle when a friend, Nick (Scott Mescudi AKA Kid Cudi) needs him — and charming — he quickly ingratiates himself into a relationship with the enigmatic Jayne (Mackenzie Leigh) during a trip down to the white beaches of Mexico — and, most importantly, he’s trying. When Gail gets ill again everything else falls away as James returns to care for her, through worried phone calls and hospital trips, with all the terror and tenderness that entails.
James White will not be for everyone — those with little time for jobless, upper middle-class Millennials may find it hard to connect, but there’s a universality to the fleeting highs and devastating lows he experiences. James White is remarkable because of its lead character’s fully developed sense of self, as well as the rear-view and sideways glimpses it gives at the world around him, like the girl’s gabbing away in the barroom booth behind him or the playful little girl in the queue next to him at pharmacy.
With Mond’s handheld camera never gets further away than the middle distance — James himself is rarely out of shot — and Matyas Erdely’s cinematography providing composure to the familiar New York streets, James White is an unerringly personal, often devastating study of a fundamentally decent guy — if emotional mess — struggling magnificently to get out of his own way, and all in just 87 simmering minutes.
