It often happens that, when people die, especially unexpectedly, judgments and value are assigned to the life they lived and what they could have done differently. It doesn’t matter how it happened if there’s suspicion, however unfounded, that something else may have been to blame, and it can be understandably difficult for friends and family to mourn when those who didn’t know their loved ones are eulogizing them in a way that isn’t fitting. Crash Land explores this phenomenon through one young man’s untimely death and his friends’ efforts to cope and pay tribute to him.
Lance (Gabriel LaBelle), Clay (Noah Parker), and Darby (Billy Bryk) spend all their time doing and filming stunts, which hasn’t earned them a popular reputation in their small town. When Darby dies from an aneurysm, everyone assumes the worst and has even less regard for his surviving friends. Determined to show that Darby did live a good life and that what they did together made an impact, Lance and Clay enlist Sander (Finn Wolfhard) to direct a movie and the only girl they can find, Jemma (Abby Quinn), to star in it. As they turn what has filled their days for so long into something (theoretically) cohesive, they confront what matters to them and how they can keep on going without their best friend around anymore.
Filmmaker Dempsey Bryk, best known previously for his acting work, describes this film as a story about people who grew up loving Jackass and the surrounding culture. That doesn’t exactly recommend a dramatic experience, but fortunately he approaches the subject sensitively, and shows the cyclical nature of how these boys, in their desperation to be taken seriously doing something that hardly feels like the height of seriousness, have earned the status they want for themselves in the eyes of those that detest them. They fulfill their dreams moment-to-moment but can’t hope to build anything lasting, since a stunt by nature is only temporary and, once it’s accomplished, the magic is over.
This is the latest cinematic stop for LaBelle, whose career has been surging since he played a version of a young Steven Spielberg in The Fabelmans and the actual young Lorne Michaels in Saturday Night. This is a less inviting performance, purposely so, that taps into an immaturity without the same ambitious goals and forward-thinking mentality of those two characters, and LaBelle pulls it off very well. He and Parker make a great duo, best when they’re not in agreement and allowing their childish squabbles to bubble over into something more resonant and potentially damaging to their long-term friendship.
Continuing a very positive run of film festival films dating back to 2017’s Landline, Quinn turns in a performance that stands in stark contrast to the male actors, coming from a much quieter place but also seeking to find an outlet that allows her to discover herself. Jemma’s demeanor is a helpful foil for the youthful angst of her collaborators, and Wolfhard, trying new things after Stranger Things, brings an unearned ego to Sander that only contributes to the conflict as this film makes its temperamental journey from formulated idea to whatever the finished product will be.
This film makes use of its landscape to show the almost infinite playground its protagonists have to get into trouble and film themselves doing it, which in turn serves as a prison for them since, according to their neighbors, they’re never going to go anywhere given how they spend their days. Bryk’s feature directorial debut is an affecting film about people who, at first glance, don’t seem all that concerned with feelings, but like the rest of us, find different ways to mask their pain and fill their time. It doesn’t always go as deep as it could but offers a worthwhile and sentimental look at the importance of holding on to something that feels real.
Movie Rating: 6/10
