There are many longstanding traditions in this entertainment industry of ours, and one of them — not necessarily the greatest, but certainly one of them — is the Sundance Road Trip Movie™. Independent films about families and/or mismatched associates on a lengthy trek around the country or the world, in which a series of adventures and/or misadventures usually prove that the journey was just as important as the destination. Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s sad, but always it screams “Sundance.”
Not every Sundance has a Sundance Road Trip Movie™, but the festival just wouldn’t be the same without films like “Little Miss Sunshine,” “Paris, Texas,” “Y tu mamá también,” “Smoke Signals,” “Tumbleweeds,” “The Motorcycle Diaries,” “A Real Pain,” “The Puffy Chair,” “Wristcutters: A Love Story,” “The End of the Tour,” “Will & Harper” or “The Brave Little Toaster.” And now, joining that legacy is Cole Webley’s “Omaha,” a depressing film about a single dad who drives his two young children to — believe it or not — Omaha. Some movie titles make more sense than others.
“Omaha” stars John Magaro (“September 5”) as the father of Ella (Molly Belle Wright, “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever”) and Charlie (Wyatt Solis, “Beyond the Rush”). At the crack of dawn he wakes his kids up and asks, if the house was on fire and they could save just one thing, what would they take? So he packs up the handheld Nintendo and a picture of their deceased mother, puts Charlie and Ella and the family dog in the car, and assures the local law enforcement that he has everything he needs, and he’ll never come back.
There are two movies bouncing off each other in “Omaha.” Ella and Charlie are on a family road trip adventure, filled with tasty burgers and fun truck stops and audio cassette mix tapes. Meanwhile their father is barely holding himself together, praying to his dead wife for guidance, and trying to give his children some good memories, even as he gradually drives them away from everything they ever knew, and makes choices that baffle both his kids.
The audience, of course, understands that all is not well. The boarded up house, the meaningful glances, the decision to save precious pennies by only buying food for Ella and Charlie and not himself. Ella picks up on the bad vibes too, and although the façade sometimes breaks — there’s a heartbreaking moment with their poor dog — she always tries to recede back into childhood obliviousness. Charlie, being younger, is off in his own little world, totally unaware that something traumatic lies ahead.
It’s easy to fear for these kids, but we should fear for their father too. John Magaro carries the weight of the film and the weight of the whole world. His plans may be elusive but his heart is bursting. He’s lost his wife, he’s lost his house, he probably only has the money in his pocket, and he has no idea what to do.
“Omaha” is set during the economic collapse of the late 2000s, a period when some people learned about desperation the hard way, and for the very first time. And while the younger members of the audience may be focusing their attentions on Ella and Charlie, the adults with dwindling bank accounts and fears for the future of this country — on many, many levels — will recognize something terrifying in Magaro’s performance. If not a fear we already have for ourselves and our loved ones, then a fear that we fear is coming.
Along the way first-time feature director Cole Webley paints a familiar picture. Sun-drenched horizons, wind blowing through children’s hair as they lean their heads out of the car window. Quiet moments with universal familiarity, the little details that connect to all of us at one point or another. “Omaha” is a brisk film that doesn’t outstay its welcome, and it packs a lot of intimate experiences into its 83-minute runtime.
I mentioned earlier that in most Sundance Road Trip Movies™, and indeed most road trip movies in general, the journey turns out to be more important than the destination. I’m not sure that holds true with “Omaha.” The film’s conclusion overturns everything, and it’s bitter and it stings. It’s unforgivable yet understanding.
When “Omaha” cuts to the credits there are a few title cards that come across as somewhat didactic, as though we’ve learned a valuable lesson about history today, but what we truly realize is that behind every headline in our ongoing American tragedy there are important, heartbreaking stories. Those stories need to be told, and they give us an important framework for our own plight, whether it’s in our past, present and/or future. Although “Omaha” is powerful and ultimately depressing as all hell, there is a faint, faint, faint glimmer of hope. If not for the world around us, at least for the people in it.
