As I write, I'm desperately keeping my eyes peeled for a glimpse of Sam Rockwell's star on the rise. I've only recently had the privilege of witnessing this fine young actor in "Lawn Dogs" and "Box of Moonlight" and I was mightily impressed. Not unlike John Turturro, (with whom he stars in "Box of Moonlight"), who has reduced the art of acting to a pursuit seemingly as effortless as breathing, Rockwell exudes a calmness on screen and he simply becomes his character. This is a rare and true gift. Just as well then, that both the aforementioned movies are worthy of his talent. "Lawn Dogs" sees Rockwell play a disaffected loner, Trent, holed up in a dilapidated trailer in the woods and reduced to mowing the lawns and tending the trees of the ample grounds of an affluent neighbouring estate, constructed to all intents and purpose like a heavily fortified island, replete with twenty-four hour security. Recent arrivals to this whiter than white suburban oasis, are a married couple, played by the ever dependable Christopher MacDonald and Kathleen Quinlan, and their delicate, sickly daughter Devon, played with uncanny ability by newcomer Mischa Barton. From the outset, it appears that all is well with this ordered paradise, once the subjugated labourers are released with a flourish of crisp, clean legal tender back to the nether regions of society and the hatches are well and truly battened down for the onset of another peaceful night. Trent certainly appears to echo the sentiment, celebrating the release and the end of a day's hard graft with a naked plunge from a bridge into a nearby river. This one act alone serves to set his character's liberal, carefree and thus almost directly opposing nature in conflict with the inhabitants of the estate. He becomes an object of illicit desire for the young women and a source of competition for the young men, particularly for a pair of well-heeled types who tear around in a formidable sports/utility vehicle with a rather testy Doberman pinscher. Indeed Trent proves true to his potential as he frequently "entertains" one of the young ladies in his humble dwelling who appears more than drawn by his animal magnetism. This is but one of a number of clandestine meetings of the mind(and body), that belie the vapid exterior of the estate, an obvious microcosm of greater American suburbia. Out of this miasma comes a shining beacon. Devon is more than a closeted patient in a sickly-sweet homestead. We gradually become aware that even at a tender age, she is quite the most virtuous and intensely interesting member of the community. We learn that she has a serious heart condition and many operations behind her, not the least of which has resulted in an enormous scar which runs the length of her chest. The many traumas that one so young has been forced to endure cultivates an incredible imagination and sensitivity to her surroundings in Devon and she experiences the unseemly underbelly of her neighbourhood, matter of fact-ly, as she wanders about. Her father is a gormless conformist who fails to realise his wife is being serviced regularly by one of the young dudes. Devon also receives some wholly unwanted attention from the same source and we witness a long overdue break from this diseased palace when she happens upon the miserable Trent, who conversely, is gradually withdrawing further and further into a virtual prison, only venturing out to mow Devon's lawn once in a while. From this point the two quickly become inseparable. Devon is literally bursting at the seems with a youthful exuberance that appears to have been stifled for so long and is maturing rapidly into a young woman. She paints Trent's empty emotional canvas with vivid colours and he slowly blossoms, the child in him re-surfacing once again. It is immediately obvious that the age disparity renders such a relationship fraught with danger. Trent is careful to remain a figure of paternal seniority to Devon and the bond between them develops not unlike that of an orphaned child who is unexpectedly re-united with a benevolent father. Devon by the very nature of a young girl's relationship with her father in the formative stages sees Trent as parent, potential lover, friend. Writer Wallace handles the explosive subject matter well; The constitution of Trent and Devon's relationship is utterly wholesome. It is only from an external viewpoint that it might appear unhealthy and Director Duigan conjures up a few genuinely cringe inducing scenes as the viewer is struck by the inherent potential for disaster, namely when Trent admits to possessing a scar also on his chest as the result of a shotgun blast. A mutual examination that both he and Devon engage in almost reduces the viewer to the role of look-out, so desperate does one become to spirit them through the minefield. Both have become painfully disenfranchised from the careful nurturing of a strong familial bond; Devon is but a worrisome work in progress to her noisome parents and Trent has grown apart from his terminally ill father and world-weary mother, unable perhaps to ameliorate their suffering in his present incarnation. Devon and he desperately need each other at this stage in their existence and it's difficult not to wish them well. The denouement, then, is particularly admirable as it refuses to submit to glib sentimentality or unwarranted pathos. All we are left with is the complexity of their tryst and the repercussion of its fateful resolution.
