Scientific research tells us that almost all cells in the human body are renewed every seven years. Personally, I like to think that explains the “seven-year itch”, the phenomenon by which many of us change jobs, friends, etc. in a predictable cycle: because you are literally not the same person anymore.
It’s been eight years since Albee (Amber Midthunder) and Walker (Taylor Gray) got married, and they hung up on work because of fumes. A surprisingly serious drama from “Hot Tub Time Machine” Steve Pink (who co-wrote the Gen X John Cusack romance novels “Grosse Pointe Blank” and “High Fidelity”), “The Wheel” follows this couple. Weekend retreat to Airbnb remotely, The couple plans to split things up once and for all.
Walker brought with him a self-help book, “Seven Questions to Save Your Marriage.” Albee says she plays, but rarely looks away from her iPhone. eEvery time he makes an effort, she rolls her eyes and says something sarcastic or mean. The hostile young woman reproaches her husband for being too “nice”, and unable to accept his affection as sincere (“How can you love? this is? You ask at some point.) Albee’s every comment is designed to push Walker away, as if to provoke him to break up.
By the time the final credits are out, this seemingly doomed couple will either have parted ways or decided to double down and work on their problems. Both endings aren’t necessarily happy, but like “The Graduate,” this movie—written by Trent Atkinson, whose vision reveals itself in unexpected but real ways during the film’s short run—believes audiences have grown up enough to recognize those relationships as effortless. As such, the movie’s final frame isn’t a guarantee of how things will look in the long run (word of advice: stay through the credits).
Tested conversations between Albee and Walker reveal that these two met when they were children in the adoption system and were bonded at the age of 16, hoping it would protect them from trauma. Albee was somehow abused, and Walker swore he would save her. You can’t totally blame her for being tough, but boy is it tough to love.
“The Wheel” is a perfect fit for mumblecore fans who will appreciate the following comparison: Think of Walker as the Mark Duplass type. He is softer and more sensitive than most men, in touch with his tears and not shy about his emotions. Albee gives off strong feelings for Aubrey Plaza, and her body language shows a kind of ambivalence to walk away. She can’t help but be cruel, and the gentle Walker acts toward her, whenever Albee seems determined to make him angry. Only once, you would like to see him get angry as much as you feel all the time.
Perhaps this weekend trip will be the ticket. It’s definitely a fitting setting for a movie shot during the pandemic. (The Wheel doesn’t refer to COVID, so one can watch without necessarily thinking that the setting is more exotic than the cabin in the independent woodland “Your Sister’s Sister” or “Baghead.”) Once they reach the rental location, their well-meaning hostess Carly (Bethany) picks up Anne Lind) stresses out immediately and inadvertently decides to play the couple’s psychotherapist.
Carly is about to marry her boyfriend Ben (Nelson Lee). These two seem more perfect about love, although interacting with Albie Walker would inevitably put a strain on their relationship as well. It’s a good idea on Atkinson’s part to include another couple, along the lines of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” lest audiences assume that the central duet is meant to represent the film’s views of all men and women. (This scenario isn’t anywhere close to that of a historical American play, but it’s hard to imagine naming the character “Albee” was a coincidence.)
Pink, the veteran TV director who takes on a somewhat important “movie” himself on what appears to be his first feature (it’s his fifth), shows almost no intuition for how to block or film a scene, inserting songs into a place where silence is. were more effective. His clumsy actions make the actors look a bit of an amateur, despite their strong and weak performances. It all comes down to a gritty (if invented) 10-minute shot on the Ferris wheel as Albee Walker sits side by side, facing the camera, trying to decide the fate of their marriage. You go round and round and round, and no one knows where to stop.
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