Track 29 (1988)

I normally expect good performances by Gary Oldman and Theresa Russell, who play the roles of Martin and Linda respectively. The storyline had me a little curious, so I watched it on a web-TV based channel. I must say that as the movie progressed, I had increasingly more difficulty keeping straight in my mind what was supposed to be real and what was supposed to be the product of the two key characters' schizophrenia. Both Oldman and Russell were experiencing hallucinations and the editing (intentionally I'm sure) did not make it easy to determine when we are seeing real moments or imagined ones; off course, some of these moments were clearly in the realm of fantasy. I concluded rather quickly that this was going to be a very confusing story. The characters of Oldman and Russell had serious psychological issues, which as best as I can tell were clouding heavily their judgement, and making them lose their grasp with reality. They are brilliant playing their mad characters and that was bout all I enjoyed about the film. Christopher Lloyd (Dr. Henry Henry-not a typo), among the sanest of the key players, in the role of Russell's husband, had entirely different psychological issues, one of which dealt with a sex fetish his nurse (played by Sandra Bernhard) was quick to assist him with. Dr. Henry's total disinterest with his wife Linda, one who had a healthy sexual appetite for a sultry and good looking wife, was enough to drive the teetering spouse into an unhealthy mental state (I'm no medical specialist but common sense is a pretty good foundation for such opinion). Oldman is the long lost son of Russell, so when the two of them go at it (enthusiastic fornicating) a few times, I immediately thought Freud's dissertation about what the troubled PhD. termed Oedipus complex, needed a new chapter and so would academic papers on incest. The only character in the movie that had her head straight, was played by Colleen Camp (the neighbor Arlanda); it's thanks to her I found the words for my review summary… Ball of Confusion. A word on T. Russell; if you want to see a terrific performance by her, watch 'Black Widow', a movie that was released a year before Track 29. I can't recommend this movie, I really can't

A young man is going around provincial USA searching for his mother that he never saw. As soon as he was born his young and careless parents sent him to mental hospital. Now Gary Oldman is free to go so he decides to find his mother, the one he was missing all those mental hospital days. His mother Linda (Theresa Russell) lives in American dream but doesn't seem to be happy. Her husband is fond of collecting railways for children. Sure, he has one of the largest railway-toy system in the whole state. He is proud of his railway model and pays more attention to his railway-world than to his young wife. Who used to have some nasty experiences before became a noble woman. But all that world is just smashed by the coming of that crazy son, who wants the revenge for such unhappy childhood. Finally Mummy lets her successful husband to meet her naughty son. Great, rather cynic, cold black humour film. www.myspace.com/neizvestnostlab

In a small southern American town, housewife Linda Henry lives a unsatisfied life and wants a child to fulfil that gap, but her husband Henry seems more concerned about his model trains and receiving his fetish spanking from nurse Stein. One day in a diner, an odd and mysterious young English lad Martin approaches Linda and her friend. He seems to appear where she is, so when another confrontation eventuates. He admits to being her son, which he was taken from her at birth when she was a teenager, due to the reasoning of his conception. This newfound responsibility is bittersweet for Linda, but has it come at a price for her well-being. Bizarre, extremely bizarre… and sultry! Nicholas Roeg's "Track 29" is really hard to fathom, which can make it quite frustrating, due to the fact the pieces of this hysterically traumatic psychological puzzle never come to be one. Maybe that was on purpose, as the dysfunctional characters (usually lurking in small town settings) we follow seem rather disconnected, never quite sure of themselves and longing for something which could lead to an emotional breakdown. This exploration into the protagonists' wavering consciousness brings out many facets, like revelations of the past and those things that matter most for them to feel anything. The obsessive nature takes hold, where torment and frustration develops with neurotic results, which could finally lose out to fantasy, because reality and their situation is just to hard to come to grips with. Because of that, Dennis Potter's unbalanced, warped screenplay really does put you on the spot and throws around plenty of eye-boggling surreal passages. Symbolic clues feature thickly throughout and the themes that drown the moody, but complex script leave a strong imprint. While I don't think it's all-successful in conveying its ideas, it's still very interesting to watch. Building it up is the unusual kinky charge, perversely pitch-black humour and a terror-away performance by the nutty Gary Oldman. Boy, Oldman annoys with his infantile portrayal, but that peculiar intensity he generates and his edgy rapport with co-star Theresa Russell has you hypnotised. The two have some curious exchanges. Russell projects a fully realised performance, that bubbles, but you also feel her growing pain and uncertainty of her fragile character. Too bad about the southern accent though. Christopher Lloyd goes offbeat too, but more so in an understated and controlled turn. Sandra Bernhard's Nurse Stein makes an impression. Roeg's leisurely paced direction might not be as beautifully visceral, but winning out is a very gleeful and excessive approach that's high quality. Like Oldman's character, Roeg lets it play out like a kooky tantrum with a lingering mean-streak. The leering camera-work seems to hover on its shots awkwardly, or give it a smothering feeling, and the simmering music score is been kept under-wraps. Another original and provocative piece of work into the realm of surrealistic ambiguity combined with expressive allegories and a sensually twisted flavour. This one really challenges the viewer (like most of Roeg's work), then highly entertains.

As one of screenwriter Dennis Potter's few feature films, this is definitely worth seeing for fans of his work. Potter incorporates a grab-bag of typical themes (and a couple of familiar jokes) into a surrealistic erotic thriller. Oldman and Russell have a smoldering chemistry, and many of their scenes together are very well done.But ultimately, as a movie, Track 29 gets hung up on a couple of points. First of all, as everyone has pointed out, the southern accents are really, really bad in this movie. Oh what a difference a good language coach would have made. Given Potter's interest in accents, and social class, I can't help but think that the juxtaposition of the characters' strong East London and North Carolina accents was probably specified in the script, but the utter ineptitude of Russell and her co-stars to sound like they're actually from *anywhere* in the South keeps destroying the viewer's suspension of disbelief. The other stumbling block, is the director's style. Potter's writing, bred at the BBC, seems to work better when filmed in an understated, realistic style. He's a writer who really packs a lot into every line, and his material doesn't generally need to be "played up" at all in order to carry the intended impact; all the power is right there in the script. Unfortunately, Roeg comes out with both guns blazing, and while his over-the-top visual style works really well in some sequences (as when Oldman destroys the train set), the overall effect was one of "more is less". I couldn't help wondering as the movie ended how differently the script could have been handled by a director like Jonathan Demme, who not only has an ear for accents and an understated visual style, but also a more subtle understanding of class in rural America than any director I can think of. In the end, an enjoyably campy B-movie with unfulfilled potential for greatness.