Blame the Man

CAPTAIN FANTASTIC (A) - I think this is what Steven Spielberg movies must seem like to the masses. I was a puddle by the end of this comic drama about a man living off the grid with his six children in the immediate wake of his wife's death and leading them back to civilization to deal with the in-laws who want to take the children from him.

Viggo Mortensen seizes the red-meat role of Ben with gusto but also a decent amount of nuance, and he is surrounded by impossibly appealing and talented children who help him create a believable alternative world, one with heft and consequences. Ben's wife left the practice of law when their oldest son was young and followed her man to the wilderness, where they home-schooled their children to brilliance and taught them survival skills, such as killing and gutting an animal for food and clothing or setting a broken bone. Ben talks to them like they are little adults, at one point explaining the mundanities of intercourse to the youngest (about 5 years old) as matter-of-factly as a high school teacher would to his students.

The children, indoctrinated by Ben in far-left political theory, subscribe ardently to a radical worldview.  "Power to the People," they chant. "Stick it to the Man!" The youngest, Nai, likes to push the boundaries of the no-nudity-during-meals rule. The group takes a break from their road trip to get a cake from a local grocery store to celebrate Noam Chomsky's birthday. (It wasn't easy for me to keep all of the kids straight, particularly the two teenage girls. And I thought the youngest one was a girl and the second-youngest was a boy -- they both had long blond hair -- but IMDb suggests that it's the other way around. Either way, Charlie Shotwell as adorable little Nai nearly steals scenes from Mortensen.)

The kids' mother was bipolar and struggled with her health, to the point where she went back to civilization for treatment, only to take her own life. Ben is summarily informed by his rich father-in-law, Jack (Frank Langella, exquisitely measured), that he is not welcome at the funeral services. Rising to the challenge, Ben packs the kids in their kitted-out school bus and heads to the foothills of New Mexico, intent on bidding a proper farewell to his wife. (When informed of Jack's threat, one kid spouts, "Grandpa can't oppress us!")

Out in the "civilized" world, the children come off as little freaks, particularly the oldest, Bo (George MacKay), who is confronted by a love interest for the first time. They stop in at the home of Bo's sister, Harper, and her husband, Dave, and their two lumps of adolescent boys, whose minds are rendered into mush by their phones and video games. The couple is played by the delightful pairing of Kathryn Hahn and Steve Zahn (casting in rhyme!), exuding quiet exasperation, especially when Ben, accused by Harper of damaging his children by denying them proper schooling, proceeds to call in his youngest child to embarrass her sons -- imbecilic victims of an American public school -- by reciting the Bill of Rights and placing it in a political context. (Among the reading materials for the children on display are The Brothers Karamazov and Guns, Germs & Steel.)

The rest of the children manage to carve out their own identities. (It helps that they have been given genuinely unique names like Kielyr, Vespyr, Rellian, Zaja and Nai.) One sharp scene finds Ben pressing one of the older girls on her interpretation of Lolita, pushing her to analyze beyond plot; the girl's response is thoughtful and insightful, with just the right tone for a teenager. It is in moments like this that Matt Ross's script resonates. Ross, who also directed, is a noted actor (he plays the nefarious head of the Google-like empire in HBO's "Silicon Valley") whose last outing behind the camera was the devastating relationship film "28 Hotel Rooms" in 2012. 

Ross weaves together several strands of a compelling plot. Bo, the eldest, secretly harbors a mainstream ambition. One of the teen girls spills some secrets of Ben's questionable parenting decisions to Jack, sparking an anti-rebellion. Ben starts questioning his whole philosophy of child-rearing and is consumed with doubt and guilt. Did he drag his wife out to the jungle against her will? Were they a team or was he brutalizing a mentally unstable woman? Few actors could juggle such character angst better than Mortensen. The closing credits feature a new version of the Bob Dylan song (popularized by the Band) "I Shall Be Released" with its acutely appropriate lyric about "a man who swears he's not to blame." Is Ben deluding himself?

Some might see the resolution of that dilemma as overly simplistic in a too-tidy ending. But, again, Mortensen -- perhaps sensing a career-defining role -- welds everything together with integrity. I was not only brought to tears more than once, but by the end I was choked with emotion. Often the proceedings border on precious, but each time Ross survives the tightrope walk. A memorial sing-along of Guns 'N Roses' "Sweet Child of Mine" is way more touching than it deserves to be.  It shouldn't work, but in context it does.

"Captain Fantastic" has a lot to say about a wide range of topics, from geopolitics to family dynamics to a man questioning everything in life he has ever stood for. Perhaps the loose ends of this story tie up just a tad too neatly in the end, but neither Ross nor his lead character should be blamed. Those of us who seek to disturb the universe and take down the Man deserve a marginally satisfying outcome, at least once in a while.

BONUS TRACK
That Dylan classic: