[yasr_overall_rating]
Locked away from society in an apartment on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, the Angulo brothers learn about the outside world through the films that they watch. Nicknamed the Wolfpack, the brothers spend their childhood re-enacting their favorite films using elaborate homemade props and costumes.
The Angulos live in a weirdly anachronistic apartment, both spare and over-stuffed, plastic chairs next to wooden ones, leaning against walls with tacked-on old calendars and photos. It’s stuffy and claustrophobic. Told mostly through the eyes of one of the boys (the other siblings largely remain unidentified, until the end credits), “The Wolfpack,” a documentary by Crystal Moselle, unravels itself quietly, with no narration or text, the camera observing passively, which only amplifies the oppressive – and highly resonant – vibe. But the film’s ambition is also its downfall, as the subject matter is so utterly compelling, the gaping holes in the narrative become that much more frustrating.
The father, who is absent for most of the film, a self-described “recluse,” refers to his family as “the tribe,” and to himself as the “landowner” – and at a different point, “God.” The children fear him. A man of contradictions, he sees the world as a prison, and though he vehemently avoids corporate slavery by secluding himself, and his family, from society, he does have musical aspirations and wants a record deal with a production label. When he finally appears towards the end of the film, the father doesn’t say much, except that his “power is to influence everybody,” and how he wants his children to be unaffected by the world outside, and truly discover themselves – but contradictorily allows them to watch “thousands” of violent films like “Blue Velvet” and “Pulp Fiction,” without real context or discussion.
The father’s enforced imprisonment led to the children’s addiction to film, and consequent reenactments with elaborate – but shockingly detailed – outfits. The Angulo boys have no choice but to fully delve “into the minds of their characters;” a searing sequence depicts one of the siblings in a Batman outfit, longingly gazing at the city of New York through a glazed window, both inspired and saddened by his discovery of “The Dark Knight.” This scene brilliantly depicts the overwhelming effect of cinema, how it makes one wish to be a hero as much as long for a better world.
A brief reference to her husband’s abusive past suggests why the mother never followed her ambition, to raise the kids in the “farm land,” where she grew up. She met him while on a trip through South America; impressed by his complete lack of consumerist inclinations, so prevalent in modern society, she fell in love, or, to quote the film, they found “common ground.” She’s remained a helpless victim since their wedding, living out her life in deep regret, while also functioning as a saint to their children, a source of calm and stability in a four-walled world of cinema.
Moselle’s debut directorial feature is filled with undeniably powerful moments, such as the unsettling archive footage, showing the family dancing in costumes during a Halloween, a scene that verges on satanic; or another shot depicting everyone squished on mattresses and cushions in a tiny, suffocated room, a vision of helplessness and despair. The story of the protagonist’s first escape from the apartment in a Michael Myers mask – and subsequent incarceration in a psychiatric ward – is revelatory, as it so succinctly shows how difficult it is for the kids to adapt to the real world.
This escape led to others, which in itself led to a gradual change, during which Moselle’s crew seems to have entered their lives: the film takes place in the present, as the boys discover the world in “Reservoir Dogs” outfits. Trains, bridges, cars – everything seems new and glorious to them. The pure exhilaration the siblings experience after watching “The Fighter” is palpable and contagious.
The film falls apart a little in its second half, when the editing becomes sporadic – brief, quickly-cut shots depict the family members pursuing their lives, but glaring holes remain. Where did the blonde girlfriend come from? What prompted them to go strolling through the orchard, after years and years of relentless inaction? The film could have also delved a little deeper into the characters’ psyches: the mother, and the reasoning behind her passivity; the father, and how exactly did he plan to make money in New York and move to Scandinavia, of all places; and especially the kids who, while shown as sheltered but bright, ambitious and talented, are never fully explored.
Some parts of the film seem staged. While the mother’s call to her mom after fifteen years of silence is touching, it feels prompted and a little forced. The siblings’ moments of child-like wonder are intermittently touching but also induce skepticism (for example, one brother’s discovery of new words – including an unexpected racial slur – should have long been a part of his lexicon, from the thousands of films he watched).
A real-life, twisted amalgamation of “Dogtooth” (whose bite it lacks) and “Be Kind Rewind” (whose humor it lacks), “Capturing the Friedmans” (“Capturing the Angulos”?) and “Catfish” (whose suspense it lacks), “The Wolfpack” is nevertheless, by turns, deeply disturbing, mordantly funny, confusing, frustrating and ultimately a perspicacious statement on isolation, the power of escapism, and how films, while reflecting real life, cannot prepare one for the challenges of the real world. It will stay with you, but you’ll also wish there was more to it.
In select theaters Friday, July 3rd and at the Angelika Dallas
