With The Dells, director Nellie Kluz delivers a work of nonfiction that exists in some strange space between shifts at the “Shore Store” from Jersey Shore and the observational style of Frederick Wiseman. Shot over the course of several summers, Kluz documents groups of “J-1s,” temporary international students permitted to take part in the Summer Work Travel Program, as they find jobs in the titular Wisconsin vacation town. In theory, this experience should deliver only a bit of observational fun, but Kluz, who served as one of the many cinematographers on How to with John Wilson, instead offers viewers a contradictory portrait of the so-called American Dream.
Like most works of direct cinema, there are no talking heads in The Dells, but there is a taxi driver named Jason. Driving from one pick-up stop to the next, his presence is twofold: he gives the stranded J-1s a lifeline in his Chrysler van, and he provides everyone, the viewer included, the inner workings of this public transit-lacking Wisconsin wasteland. Through gossip and meandering conversations, a bond quickly develops between driver and passenger, cameraperson and camera subject. Work, wages, and other taboo topics like green card marriages are discussed thanks to Jason’s disarming spirit, and yet, not every conversation is so heavy. While driving around a group of J-1s who are unhappy with their living conditions, Jason is asked if he likes his job. After thinking the question over for a few seconds, he responds simply with a “10,” before moving the conversation to “God’s energy drink” (water) and white-tailed deer.
When the camera is not stuffed within the passenger compartment, Kluz often shoots the Dells in extreme wide shots. These tableaux are hypnotic in their normalcy and are reminiscent of the Breezewood, Pennsylvania, meme rather than the transcendent cultural exchange program the J-1s are sold overseas before coming stateside. The waterslides and neon lights of various chain restaurants serve as a cruel reminder that the Summer Work Travel Program functions as an exploitative scam where cheap labor reigns supreme. During a Fourth of July picnic, we learn that the J-1 manager of a t-shirt shop only makes $8 an hour while working an 80-hour work week. It’s in these revelations that Kluz’s contempt for the work exchange program is best felt and finds alliance with the work of Wiseman. Indeed, talk of bad wages and long hours becomes a constant thread throughout the film, but unlike the J-1s, who let the work slide by passively, Kluz punctuates her film with these conversations, so that they weigh on the viewer.
Despite Kluz’s indignation for her subjects, The Dells is also a hangout film that relies on the levity of its adolescent subjects to maintain momentum. Kluz consistently builds a sympathetic portrait of the J-1s just as Wiseman might, but unlike the auteur, who has never shied away from the material subject matter of work and workers, Kluz is making The Dells on a shoestring budget primarily funded by grants, which means filming within the actual waterparks, hotels, resorts, etc., is prohibited. Therefore, “afters,” leisure, and basically anytime off the clock lead the primary action of the film. This type of experience could prove mundane, but with late teenagers and people in their early 20s, this isn’t an issue. In one early scene, a group of J-1s pile into the rear compartment of a van in possession of smiles, laughter, and three cases of beer, while in another scene, Kluz observes a group of Dominican J-1s dancing and goofing around in a community center. Partying functions as an upper rather than a downer, not only because it helps the J-1s get through a rough work week, but because it’s simply fun to tag along.
In between these moments of work and play, Kluz tucks in pillow shots, static still lifes that are inspired by Yasujirō Ozu’s style, of motels, various Dells monuments, nature, and corporate America. Sometimes these static shots can seem out of place, but like Ozu’s famous red teapot, such images function to pause the narrative. They essentially give the viewer a place to rest their head and contemplate the film’s environment without the concern of narrative progression. In truth, these pillow shots in The Dells could stand reasonably well on their own as montage, but in this case, they function to complement a more zoomed-out portrait of a Wisconsin vacation town that is undeniably beautiful but complicated, rich in both misery and delight.
DIRECTOR: Nellie Kluz; DISTRIBUTOR: Memory; IN THEATERS: June 20; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 11 min.
Comments are closed.