Labor Day

Independent writer/director films, based on novels, tend to have a liquid sensibility flowing through the text. The literary quality is retained in the narrative voice, in this case belonging to Henry (Gattlin Griffith), whose mother Adele (Kate Winslet) suffers from acrophobia and depression.

"I could feel her longing and loneliness before I had a name for it."

They live in a rambling, messy house in the woods on the edge of town. Henry's dad lives quite close with a new wife and kids. Henry and he hang out at the weekends. It sort of works, but doesn't really, because nothing real is ever talked about. It's good sport fun stuff, big smiles dad time!

This is 1987. Henry is the witness, not the protagonist. Adele is the one. Adele and Frank (Josh Brolin).

He meets up with them in the store and persuades them to let him come home for a couple of hours to rest. He's wounded in the leg. He doesn't tell them how.

It's the Labor Day weekend. Frank doesn't leave. Adele doesn't want him to. Neither does Henry. His charm may disguise a violent alter ego. His honesty may be a trap. They don't know.

Adele opens like a flower. The TV is full of news of a murderer on the run. Frank does odd jobs around the house. He tells them who he is. "Nothing misleads people like the truth," he says.

There have been films like this before. Many times. Usually they end in tears. Or blood. This one is different. The tension rolls like thunder through your mind. Will she live? Can they escape? Is he for real? Anticipation invites fear.

"There's another kind of hunger - the hunger for human touch."

Beautifully written, wonderfully acted, Labor Day avoids the obvious pot holes, despite a plot that can only be corny, or predictable. It is neither.

Those are real tears.