Limbo

A struggling small town, as conscious of its historical economic uncertainties as it is of its naturalistic providence, its identity surfing Northwest waves with surges of prosperity before suddenly crashing with hawkish speed, introduces a newcomer to its local pantheon, her voice mellifluously diagnosing with gritty surgical precision, a tavern effervescently supplying tales and testaments and intrigue and romance, while a local canning factory shuts down, a mayor envisions the benefits of ecotourism, a couple grow tired of meagre cashflows, and winter incrementally and hauntingly approaches.

As all of these plots threads stitch together and breakaway, like preparations being made for a regional mini-series replete with bucolic melodrama, a wayward son shows back up in town in desperate search of liquid capital, his by-the-book sibling unaware of his shady dealings, the two reunited for a trip by sea enriched by artistic accompaniments, which indiscreetly departs with adventurous cheer, glibly unaware of the creditors who pursue them.

Some films chart a different course halfway through, and courageously alter their narrative visions, such as Full Metal Jacket or Lost Highway, with more success than John Sayles's Limbo.

Theoretically speaking, or inasmuch as one is to apply thought to speculate regarding its cryptic prophetic ending, the second half of Limbo works, after three of its characters find themselves lost on Pacific shores without much hope of rescue.

The rest of its characters disappear though, after having been creatively developed, and I have to admit that they had been developed to the point that I was somewhat irked to see them largely absent from the rest of the film.

However, during the second half young Noelle (Vanessa Martinez) does demonstrate remarkable storytelling skills as she pretends to read from a diary found sitting in an abandoned cabin which doesn't contain many entries.

The film was released in 1999.

By isolating an imaginative youth and then celebrating her literary agility, minutes before her rescue arrives, and then ending the film before we find out whether or not she's been rescued or murdered, Sayles may have been expressing his concerns regarding the future of American cinema, her death representing one wherein which friends sell each other out to make a quick buck, or original storytelling fades as commercial interests place more of an emphasis on calculating revenues than cultivating independence, her life allegorically symbolizing the flourishing of American small town communal solidarity, with its corresponding continuing focus on original ideas, which would inevitably find themselves hailed in the nation's cinemas.

It looked like her feisty mom (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) had finally found a stable nice partner (David Strathairn as Joe Gastineau) as well, a relationship that may have prospered within diverse creative cultures.

The depth of Sayles's prophecy can't be explored here unfortunately, but I can confidently claim there are still many excellent independent films being made in the U.S., and many that are still out there to make a quick buck.

Did the 2000s engender a paradigm shift or cleverly dissemble artistic realities which never stop agitating?

How would I know?

May make a cool book however.