Review: Time Out of Mind

They are everywhere and yet nowhere. We pass them on the streets, see them asleep on benches, on sidewalks, the corners of subway platforms. We hear their pleas for us to spare some change or to help them out. Perhaps we hear them, perhaps we do give them a coin or two, or even a dollar bill if we feel so inclined. Perhaps we walk on and forget they were ever there. Because to see them would be to acknowledge them, and to acknowledge them would be to admit that life can spiral out of control, that circumstances can change and, most frighteningly, that it could have been us, that it could still be us.

Time Out of Mind focuses on one such invisible man, whose name we later learn is George Hammond (Richard Gere). First seen being awakened in a bathtub in an apartment not his own, George spends the majority of the film as an "in between" - he refuses to call himself homeless - constantly being told to leave from one place or another. The hospital, for example, will allow him to take shelter in its waiting lounge...but only if it's below zero outside. Sleep is elusive - it's almost farcical how George is consistently denied and thwarted a full night's rest. The city teems with all manner of noise - cars driving past, people talking, always talking.

It's a surprise then when George discovers that New York City must legally provide him a bed. Not only that but he could qualify for a permanent place in one of the city shelters, provided he passes the evaluation. Once assigned a bed, George finds the shelters are a step above prison - arguments are prone to break out between the shelters' denizens and its staff, tensions simmer between the white and black population, no one can be trusted. Then there is the paperwork to content with and, with George's wallet stolen, the difficulty of even establishing a documented identity. Life seems determined to erase him from existence.

Time Out of Mind can make for bleak viewing, and writer-director Oren Moverman's commendable commitment to taking viewers through every step of George's journey requires a patience most may not want to summon. If nothing else, the film is worth watching for the visual approach that Moverman and cinematographer Bobby Bukowski employ. George is seen almost always from a distance and usually through windows or screens or doorways. The compositions reinforce George's isolation and sense of entrapment. The observational visual approach possesses an uncommon textural quality. One lovely scene between George and his estranged daughter (Jena Malone) is shown through a window, upon which is reflected coloured lights and images of passersby. The effect is a detached intimacy - life goes on even if one individual's life has stalled. And for all the drabness and hopelessness of George's surroundings and situation, there is a vibrancy about the city that will not be suppressed.

Then there is Gere, whose immersive portrayal ranks amongst his finest. It is difficult to reconcile this broken down man with the sexual swaggerers of Gere's younger years. Gere's beauty, and that overwhelming sexuality, has often distracted from the nimbleness and range of his performances. The beauty hasn't entirely gone away - even at his scruffiest, Gere is attractive - but it does not detract from the simple, unfussy, and heartfelt portrayal of a man who deserves looking after but is often hard to help.

Time Out of Mind

Directed by: Oren Moverman

Written by: Oren Moverman

Starring: Richard Gere, Ben Vereen, Jena Malone, Steve Buscemi, Kyra Sedgwick