‘Small Engine Repair’ and the Lost Art of Divisive Filmmaking (FILM REVIEW)

Rating: B-

If Small Engine Repair had been made decades ago, it’s likely it would be revered as a cult classic today. Written, directed by, and starring John Pollono, based on his play of the same name, it’s a film told on the smallest of scales, with a story that plays out in the pauses as much as the frequently overlapping dialogue.

Set in the outskirts of Manchester, New Hampshire, Small Engine Repair centers on three lifelong friends, Swaino (Jon Bernthal), Packie (Shea Whigham), and Pollono reprising his on-stage role as Frankie. While the trio has avoided some – but not all – of the typical traps of arrested development, their myriad of collective failures are largely self-excused as they all do their part as father figures for Frankie’s daughter, Crystal (Ciara Bravo).

This is all set up in an extended prologue, which establishes the decades-long rapport between the three friends, (and Crystal, albeit to a lesser extent), Frankie’s strained relationship with his ex, and the downside of a nonstop barrage of machismo posturing. The latter of which predictably turns a night out to have a few beers into a full-on bar brawl, which manages to pull Frankie into the undertow, despite his recent sobriety.

The story itself starts three months later, per the title card, and the trio of besties have parted ways. This is presented as some kind of massive rift in the social fabric despite the fact that adults often go several months without chatting – even lifelong buddies in small towns. Anyway, Frankie ends up pulling the platonic equivalent to The Parent Trap to reunite himself with Swaino and Packie.

Like the extended prologue, the scenes between the trio are the film’s strongest moments by far, with interplay that comes across casually, almost effortlessly, a kind of stream-of-conscious improvisation. With minimal set pieces against the backdrop of a podunk New England town, the influences date back to the early, non-sci-fi work of Roger Corman and the raw, stripped-down character studies of John Cassavetes.

The insight and admiration the three lead characters have for each other is never more palpable then when they share the screen together, and it’s enough to carry viewers through the movies big twist. Although it may not be enough to carry every viewer through the big twist all the way to the film’s resolution. While it’s not necessarily jarring, as it’s hinted at pretty strongly from the earliest moments of the trio’s friendly reunion, how effective this sudden conflict plays out on screen is debatable. At times it felt like it was almost introduced too late, only to be rushed to make out in time for the film’s hour-and-40-minute cut-off point, and left me wondering how these events would’ve played out on stage before being adapted to film.

It was also that kind of unexpected plot development that, regardless of how one may feel about it’s contextualization, is undeniably affective. Those picking up on the earliest hints may even feel a growing sense of anxiety over it until the big reveal, and tends to stick around after the credits roll. And while there are also some general plotholes to overlook, namely revolving around a small town’s complete inability to keep secrets, the three leads remain committed to their characters – and to the story, which goes a long way when it comes to suspending one’s disbelief.

It’s interesting to imagine how Small Engine Repair would’ve fared against the 70s-style cinema that inspired it, (the Instagram references notwithstanding), and how its sudden third act reveal would be regarded by audiences decades later, after it had been engrained in the public vernacular. As a new film, however, it’s likely to be divisive among today’s audiences. Much like the films it was influenced by.

Small Engine Repair is playing in theaters now

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