Skip to main content
Close

Touchy Feely: Direction Over Story

By Gary Suderman · September 9, 2013

There is a scene in the second act of Lynn Shelton’s Touchy Feely wherein Paul (Josh Pais), a dentist formerly closed off to all forms of alternative healing, visits the office of Bronwyn (Alison Janney), a reiki master and friend of Paul’s sister, Abby (Rosemary DeWitt). Bronwyn instructs Paul to mount the massage table, which he does—from the base, plodding awkwardly on all fours until he decides to lie down in a pose closer to the fetal position than the standard face-down approach. When Bronwyn asks himself to visualize a serene place, Paul pictures the backroom at his dental office, where he reviews x-rays.

This sequence finds a deft balance between portraying character through purely physical comedy and revelatory dialogue. Both of these people, clearly from opposite ends of life experience and perspective, find a way to meet in the middle. Touchy Feely benefits from such moments of quiet reflection, unforced authenticity, and a distinctive trust in the strengths of its cast, although narrative meandering and inconsistencies blunt its potential. Compared to the strength of her previous outing, Your Sister’s Sister, the film is a minor entry in Shelton’s oeuvre, but with still enough charm to endear it.

The story revolves around the plight of the aforementioned Abby, a free-spirited massage therapist who is the complete opposite of brother Paul, the milquetoast single father of Jenny (Ellen Page), who works as his dental assistant and still lives at home despite the college and culinary school applications waiting to be sent in her room. The personality differences between Paul and Abby become clear over dinner as she calls him “wan” and refuses his tepid invitation for her to live with him and Jenny, opting instead to move in with her cyclist boyfriend, Jesse (Scoot McNairy). However, the next day she unexpectedly loses her ability to touch, as almost microscopic shots of skin reveal the strange contours and cracks of her patients’ natural dermatology viewed up close. Abby temporarily shuts her massage practice, trying to come to grips with her newfound phobia and “whopperjaw” perspective, which may be related to broader issues with intimacy. Meanwhile, Paul finds himself suddenly able to help or even heal his patients. As his formerly flailing office fills to capacity, he soon becomes open to the possibility that there are other forms of medicine and healing.

From this slightly magical initial premise, both Abby and Paul encounter people and discover new traits of themselves in a world that remains grounded in reality. The film allows quiet moments to play out, often in wide shots and long takes that have a theatrical sensibility. In a few specific instances, like the unnerving close-ups of skin, the film’s cinematography renders the shifting perception of characters, specifically Abby, as she learns to regain her tactile senses. A gorgeously photographed sequence involves the deep lush greens of the Pacific Northwest foliage, along with rain-soaked rocks and the stunning wildlife, the experience of which may be enhanced by a character’s Ecstacy trip. Later, a voice-over complements the first-person view of a house from the past, awash in ever-present memories. In other places, a primarily static camera allows the tension to build, making ordinary moments stick out for their inner shifts.  These moments highlight a confident directorial hand.

Unfortunately, the script does not reflect the same assuredness, or at least not the final version that was cut together. As writer, director, and editor, Shelton eschewed heavy improvisation in favor of sticking to a script, a major departure from her other films, particularly those with Mark Duplass. Some moments are left troublingly unexplained or glossed over. And Ellen Page, who does her best with the limited role, is sadly underused. We never know the full reasons behind her stunted development, instead we are given insubstantial, if occasionally charming, dialogue exchanges about calzones and dental patients distractingly named Mr. Frobisher. The film never tells us how old she is (19? 22? 25?), which would change the ramifications of her choice to stay with her father and his dental practice instead of moving onto the next stage of her adult life. Since Page has become associated with stronger, more fearless characters, it’s hard to believe her as hemmed in, especially since her back-story is left frustratingly vague.

This inconsistency is echoed in the film’s deference to countless establishing shots of Seattle. Shelton should be commended as one of the lead figures in the movement to put the city and the Pacific Northwest on the map in the film community, and the previously described sequences highlighting the region’s beauty serve to show the unique narrative opportunities afforded by Washington and Oregon. The film also respects the quotidian routines of those trying to make an honest living in regular jobs by allowing us to see a typical day in their lives. Unfortunately, an almost comical amount of shots of different areas of the city are sandwiched together to show the passage of time between scenes. The viewer can’t help but get the same sensation as watching a sitcom, when B-roll shots of the show’s designated city are inserted whenever necessary, apart from time or purpose. Perhaps Shelton’s work on network fare like New Girl bled over to her indie sensibilities. It’s a minor crime, but one which took me out of enjoying the film.

Touchy Feely has many strengths, and it self-evidently comes from a personal, heartfelt place. Shelton appreciates the struggles and little vicissitudes in human co-existence, and she has delivered another film that reflects her outlook and her city. With her next film, Laggies, an ensemble drama featuring Keira Knightley and Sam Rockwell, she seems poised to deepen the trend of working with bigger casts and a more concrete script. I look forward to seeing Shelton’s further evolution as she navigates the terrains of scale and approach and finds where her voice is best served.