'Gasoline Rainbow' review: Kids hit the road while they can

New Orleans-based filmmaker brothers Bill and Turner Ross have made a name for themselves over the past 15 years with their lyrical and poetic documentaries. But with 2020's “Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets,” they blurred the line between fiction and nonfiction, creating an imaginary setting in a real dive bar on its last night of business, watching a select group of regulars as they closed it down for always. .

The new “Gasoline Rainbow” is his first official narrative feature, informed by his documentary roots and his eye for capturing spontaneous beauty. During the 2020 Covid-19 quarantine, Bill and Turner Ross came up with a wild road movie, which they wrote and freely cast with five young up-and-coming actors from Oregon. They play a group of friends from a small town called Wiley, who hit the road with the only things you need for an adventure: a dream, a group, a van and the firm belief that “anywhere is better than here.”

The dream is to see the Oregon coast, 513 miles from their landlocked city. The group is made up of three boys, Makai Garza, Micah Bunch and Tony Aburto, and two girls, Nathaly García and Nichole Dukes. The van helps them start their adventure, but they soon discover that it is not a necessary component. After spending the night partying in a cow field with a guy they meet on the side of the road, they return to find the truck in blocks, trashed, the tires stolen, and that's when things get really interesting. They have to rely on each other and the kindness of strangers and the community to get to the beach, to the End of the World Party, a mysterious event that they learn about and which becomes their final destination.

Although the events of this trip are planned and produced by the filmmakers, the relationships are real, the interactions and conversations undeniably authentic. If pioneering English documentary filmmaker John Grierson's definition of nonfiction film was the “creative treatment of reality,” “Gasoline Rainbow” could apparently fit under that umbrella.

But this is not a documentary, and it is much more productive to consider the ways in which the Ross brothers have synthesized their influences and inspirations, such as “My Own Private Idaho,” “The Wizard of Oz,” “Easy Rider” and the 1984 film .documentary “Streetwise” – in its own unique way that exudes a singular kind of irregular and unpredictable vitality.

Each actor is a discovery with a special presence, but there is no star or standout that feels intentional. While “Gasoline Rainbow” is a heady slice of pure, uncut youthful energy, it is also a portrait of collectivism, caring, and a celebration of mutual aid.

It's fitting that a film like this was born out of the isolation and confinement of 2020. There was a desire for freedom and movement, combined with the progressive value of caring for each other that emerged from quarantine and the Black Lives Matter movement. In “Gasoline Rainbow,” the kids acquire this sense of mutual protection naturally, but the courage is reinforced along the way by heavily pierced punk hitchhikers who teach them how to take a train to Portland in exchange for their leftover food. , and the middle-aged rockers who offer a party, a couch to rest on, breakfast and a boat ride. Noah, Micah's cousin, emphasizes the importance, telling them, “I like the way you treat each other.”

These intertwined values ​​of care and respect are why we never fear for your safety. They make decisions as a group, look out for each other, and demonstrate their conscientiousness by asking strangers they meet, “Are you cool?” The film is not about the risks of a harrowing journey. In turn, it gives us the freedom, as viewers, to focus on the stories of their lives that emerge in fragments of conversation and those of the people they meet along the way. Their guides are fascinating in their own right, like Gary, a Portland skateboarder who guides them around the city for a night and then takes them by ferry to the party.

This age (neither children nor adults) is an incredibly short time, and it is moving to drink in their openness and flexibility as people, their youthful confidence and impermeability, to see them flourish and create bonds. They have not yet become adults and know that they have this moment to enjoy fleeting youth, before jobs, bills and responsibilities. Nichole says he fears he won't have enough time to figure things out and this movie is a celebration of that moment.

“Gasoline Rainbow” is also incredibly beautiful, with carefully composed shots that capture the vast Oregon landscape, raspberry sunsets, golden fields, nighttime beach, and misty morning. Portland's gritty urban space is so wildly different from its one-stoplight city, it's intoxicating, the gang drawn to the all-night parties, skate parks, rock festivals, and waving monster flags. freely.

Although broader cultural commentary is not explicit, certain realities necessarily come to light, with jokes about cops, corporate logos emblazoned on train cars, discussions about parents in rehab, and what it's like to be the only black kid in a small town in New York. Oregon (“It sucks”). It is a description of today's youth, shaped by contemporary culture, but there is also a timelessness to their experience. The Ross Brothers capture those universal feelings of a certain era: possibility, union with the tribe, untethered from traditional family structures.

The structuring destiny of The Party at the End of the World speaks to this idea that time is running out, and imparts a sense of existential dread that hovers on the edge, but forces the characters and the audience to stay in the moment, to embrace the chance, surprise and coincidence. As it all comes together, there is a feeling of emotional and visceral catharsis that can only be achieved at the end of a long journey. That the Ross brothers manage to convey this feeling to the public after a cinematic adventure of one hour and 48 minutes is a true triumph. This wild, roundabout journey through youthful adventure is worth taking, for your own nostalgia and to remember that kids really are okay.