The complete and utter heaviness of the material is not what drags Five Nights in Maine down. It’s the lack of connective tissue to real life. The film lets grief exist in a vacuum, showing only the side effects. It is a situation where Sherwin confronts his loss directly in every scene. But loss doesn’t work that way. Loss permeates every second of your life, even when you must complete the most mundane task. This element feels completely tossed aside.
And then there is Fiona. She is a character, developed almost exclusively in flashbacks. It’s not especially effective and breaks up the pacing of the movie in a major way. A longer version — perhaps one that exists — than the 82 minute one seen could have split the film between Sherwin’s time with Fiona and his time with Lucinda. In fact, this version would make more sense. A riskier cut could have done away with Fiona completely and dealt with loss as an abstract concept, allowing the audience to internalize completely. The film splits the difference on this case and while the impact of the loss is felt, we are left feeling like we never knew Fiona on the same level as either of the other characters. Of course we never could get that close. But while it feels like the film wants us to embedded our emotions in the text, it is rarely interesting enough to prevent your mind from wandering and extrapolating the emotions felt to your own interpersonal relationships.
Not much else is here. Music is sparse. The filmmaking deals in close-ups and handheld cam. The script engages because the actors choose to engage with it, but for as much real energy that went into fueling it, Five Nights in Maine lacks the appropriate output to match and therefore confusing reality with mundanity.
Five Nights in Maine comes to theaters and VOD services on August 5.