Review

Jack Slavin (Day-Lewis) bought an island off the New England coast in the early ‘70s to establish a commune and live a self-sufficient life with other free-thinkers and scholars. By 1986, he and his daughter lived there alone, in as much isolation as the world allowed. He takes rifle in hand to scare off the builders setting up tract housing just down the road; but he knows, in his weary heart, that change is inevitable. He and daughter Rose (the remarkable Belle) have lived an idyllic dream until now, farming and reading, baking pies and staring at clouds. Rose cannot see a life apart from her father, and plans to die when he does. When Jack brings Kathleen (Kenner), his lover of four months, into their home with her two sons, Rose responds more as his mate than his offspring, losing her virginity to spite him. She doesn’t yet realize her dad’s actually looking for someone to take care of her after he’s gone. The Ballad of Jack and Rose attempts several subplots: the unusual closeness of Jack and Rose’s relationship, Rose’s emerging sexuality, the encroachment of development on open land, and the bitter loss of idealistic vision. While the film is not completely successful in its development of its themes, it receives able support from uniformly affecting and effective performances and delivers its fair share of wry and on-target symbolism. Writer-director Miller evidences much fondness for Jack and Rose, and an uncanny ability to take the viewer into the souls of these hapless inhabitants of Paradise Lost. Ballad... offers compassionate commentary on failed attempts at perfection and discerning acknowledgement of the saving grace of human resilience offers compassionate commentary on failed attempts at perfection and discerning acknowledgement of the saving grace of human resilience.

 -- Ann Yarabinee