The press
for Steven Soderbergh's “Bubble” describes it
as a "unique cinematic experiment," which makes
one wonder what's so experimental about this film. Granted,
it will be part of a new line of movies scheduled for "day-and-date"
releases, i.e., simultaneous release in theaters, on television,
and on DVD, but that speaks more of factors external to
the movie itself. It's shot in high-definition, but its
overall look is modest, with nothing to show off. Perhaps
its most daring move involves imploying only non-actors
who are native to the film's setting of Southern Ohio. But
even that idea isn't new, it's just rarely employed.
Still,
it's that particular aspect which gives “Bubble”
its sense of uniqueness. Soderbergh aims for realism so
stark that you could never mistake it for highly-paid celebrities
trying to go slumming in low-budget territories. The result?
An act so delicate it could almost be described by the film's
title. The movie relies mainly on three players -- Debbie
Doebereiner, Dustin James Ashley, and Misty Dawn Wilkins
-- to sell its story of ripples in an economically oppressed
pond. As actors, they aren't revelatory but are convincing;
they have the skills required to deliver these characters,
which is all Soderbergh needs.
“Bubble”
focuses on people who are so ingrained in their milieu that
they've become numb to it. Doebereiner plays Martha, a middle-aged
doll factory worker who has befriended her co-worker, young
twentysomething Kyle, played by Ashley. They really have
no basis for a friendship other than working together and
living close enough to commute together. Their dialogue
is simple and awkward. For Kyle, a regular pot smoker, the
relationship is functional, practically there by default;
Martha, on the other hand, invests more meaning into it,
perhaps because she has nothing else to invest in.
Their
world is insulated, routine, mundane, and, yet, strangely
secure. Numbness has its allure in the comfort of predictability
and the slow, gradual development of any event. The bubble
is in danger of popping when young, attractive single mother
Rose (Wilkins) arrives to work at the factory. Kyle takes
an immediate interest in her, while Martha eyes her with
wary suspicion. Rose represents a threat in many ways --
she's critical of her environment and seems at ease with
taking advantage of others.
An idea
running through the movie suggests that these downtrodden
people are so used to their situation they'll subconsciously
go to great lengths to keep it from being upended; also,
Bubble indicates that, given their limited perspectives,
the characters may see fit to prey on each other when the
need arises. In other words, they're as much to blame for
keeping themselves held back as are the more commonly blamed
larger social and economic forces, whose represented presence
remains absent in the story. This condemnation of lower
class complacency and nearsightedness would seem largely
unsympathetic were it not for the benefits reaped from the
employment of these regional non-actors. They're able to
convey a very real sense of stasis and express a non-expressiveness.
The characters can't help being who they are, saddled with
all the usual human weaknesses only deepened by the lack
of stimulation in their environment.
Martha
in particular draws looks of concern from the audience as
Rose's company slowly unravels her. As outwardly depressing
as her situation is -- saddled with a father who needs looking
after, protective of a friendship with a man about half
her age, and unquestioningly accepting of her job at the
factory -- the only thing on her mind when Rose starts making
waves is how to return to a stability she's familiar with.
It's a contrast to more popular depictions of the poor working
class, often shown struggling hard to escape their conditions.
In this way, “Bubble” feels harsh but not false,
thanks largely to its dedication to the creation of an authentic
pitiable and insular world.