With his sophomore feature Linoleum (2022), writer-director Colin West takes to the stars. The film primarily follows Cameron Edwin (Jim Gaffigan), the middle-aged host of a public-access science show called Above and Beyond. He lives in suburbia with his wife Erin (Rhea Seehorn), and their children Nora (Katelyn Nacon) and Sam (Willoughby Pyle). When Cameron learns he’s losing his show to new host Kent Armstrong (also Gaffigan), it joins his compounding crises. He and Erin are on the precipice of divorce. Cameron struggles to connect with his children. His father is at the tail end of dementia. Altogether, these issues set Cameron on an existential spiral where he yearns to make more of himself. When a mysterious satellite crashlands in the backyard, it seems his prayers are answered; he will rebuild it and become the astronaut he always wanted to be.
West’s script starts focused on Cameron, but one of the gifts within it is that we steadily spend more time with Erin and Nora. The result is a narrative that places each of these figures around each other rather like the celestial bodies Erin and Cameron study. They each orbit the central pull of longing for more, wishing for those rare moments when they all reach a planetary alignment and can fall together. West never overplays one storyline. Cameron is the de facto protagonist, yes, but his journey only works if we understand the crisis of self-perception that Nora faces as a queer high-schooler, and vice versa. Nora’s striving to define the next stage of her life while wondering if there’s a place for Cameron in it avoids reducing her to the trope of nagging-and-concerned-wife. Together, they are a proper, if you’ll excuse my extending the metaphor, system.
Helping this along is a constellation of wonderful performances. Gaffigan leads the way with impressive double-duty as Cameron and Kent. Supported by top-notch costuming and hairstyling, he molds the two men into funhouse mirror reflections of one another. Kent answers all of Cameron’s tenderness and reflection with aggression and ignorance. Furthermore, from their first scene together, Gaffigan, Nacon, and Seehorn immediately feel like a family unit with all the concurrent baggage. Seehorn captures the vulnerable irritation that can only come from spending a life dealing with someone else’s idiosyncrasies. Nacon bristles with the desperation of a teenager taking emotional bombardment from all sides while frantically grasping for purchase. Beyond the full family interactions, both Seehorn and Nacon find gems of scenes to shine in. A personal favorite comes later in the film when the two have a late-night conversation. It is challenging, moving, and utterly believable.
As a director, West situates his story and performers in a meticulously designed filmic world. Old-fashioned technology, from chunky computers to unironic polaroid cameras, abounds. The suburban locale is doused in 1950s color palettes, saturated and nearly shimmering with bright hues. Even Cameron’s penchant for biking everywhere underscores a certain wistfulness, as well as a sense of timelessness. Linoleum could take place in the late 1980s, early 2000s, or nearly any other time in the last 50 years. The aesthetic choice serves West well as the film progresses into slightly more surreal and emotionally darker territory. Tension between the visual norm we’ve grown used to and this descent into unease only serves to draw you further in. West nimbly toys with the uncertainty, playing up the doppelgänger angle through sprinkled in shots of Cameron in reflective surfaces. It’s an impressive cinematic concoction from a filmmaker still breaking in.
If I have any gripes with Linoleum, it is only that West should trust himself more in the final stretch. I’ll remain vague for the sake of preserving a lovely twist, but the general sense is that when West pulls the sheet off the film’s big “A-ha!” moment, he doubles down on explanatory dialogue. There is no need. Much like how Psycho (1960) loses steam when a psychiatrist appears to monologue about Norman Bates’ (Anthony Perkins) situation, West seems nervous that audiences won’t understand without a plot guidebook. It’s a shame because the aesthetics, performances, and editing in that climactic arena are all exquisite. Maybe in pulling double-duty West didn’t have a voice assuring him the film worked without explicit explanation. It is a letdown, albeit minor in the grand scheme of a film that succeeds in every other arena. Linoleum should please fans of heartfelt dramedies and puzzle box films alike. If you’re attending SXSW and missed the premiere, I give you my sincere recommendation to seek out a second or online screening. Linoleum is a lovely experience to give yourself over to.
Linoleum was viewed in the Narrative Spotlight section of SXSW 2022.
Director: Colin West
Writers: Colin West
Rated: NR
Runtime: 101m
Rating: 4 out of 5
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Devin McGrath-Conwell holds a B.A. in Film / English from Middlebury College and is currently pursuing an MFA in Screenwriting from Emerson College. His obsessions include all things horror, David Lynch, the darkest of satires, and Billy Joel. Devin’s writing has also appeared in publications such as Filmhounds Magazine, Film Cred, Horror Homeroom, and Cinema Scholars.