film

Writer/director Josh Sternfeld has a feel for life's little interactions - the moments before or after Big Things Happen, otherwise known as: most of the time. His feature debut, "Winter Solstice," has all the adrenaline of a lazy Sunday afternoon, with a melancholy vibe and dialogue so spare as to make every gesture and word count.
Words like, "Hey," which Jim Winters says quietly as he joins his older son, Gabe, on the front orch of their New Jersey home. And "What's up?," which Gabe answers, slumped in a chair, bottle of beer slack in his hand. "Winter Solstice" is filled with such conversations, agenda-free or, at least, agenda-ignored, with the glances and nods of real life.
Jim (Anthony LaPaglia) is a widower. His wife died in a car accident five years earlier, leaving him to raise their two sons, Gabe and Pete (Aaron Stanford and Mark Webber), alone. He owns a small landscaping business and struggles to communicate with the boys over family dinners and household chores, each day heavy with an unspoken loneliness as the Winters men pass in the hallways.
The film has two seminal events, neither of which immediately transforms: Gabe announces that he's moving to Florida - something about bunking with a buddy and working on a boat - and Molly Ripkin (Allison Janney), a single woman housesitting for a friend, moves in down the street and sparks something small (as small as a half-grin) but noticeable in Jim.
Jim's bitter reaction to Gabe's news only rises to the surface in flashes, but it's those passing moments that reveal a grown man's hibernating desires and fear of abandonment.
Then there's Pete, who is deaf in one ear and can't seem to - or doesn't care to - finish high school. Lanky and lethargic, with eyes both sleepy and judgmental, Pete's quiet rebellion is less about causing his father heartache and more about self-inflicted pain.
All three men turn in superb and understated performances. LaPaglia, the star of CBS' crime drama "Without a Trace," offsets his gruff manner and bulky physique with a gentle touch, most evident in the way Jim handles his plants and flowers and chooses every sentence with care. But it's Webber who makes something sublime out of nothing special, injecting Pete's apathy and isolation with an honesty and depth not often plain in cinematic teen angst.
Sternfeld isn't as observant with women, and Molly remains a plot device throughout, bumping into Jim at the Dairy Queen in order to tease out of him a new emotion or memory. Molly's underdeveloped character can partially be pinned on Janney, who can't shake her "West Wing" persona, but mostly it's the writing.
However fixed, Sternfeld's use for Molly comes from a good place: He refuses to force the guys into false moments, preventing them from voicing the feelings that would, between these men, remain unsaid.
By holding back his characters, Sternfeld gives us all they've got.