It’s only fitting that a road trip movie like “Omaha” would begin with a series of domestic still lifes depicting clutter. Screenwriter Robert Machoian’s unique entry into the subgenre is neither a transformational journey nor the ultimate destination for a struggling Nevadan family of three. Instead, it’s about sitting with what already exists in whatever makeshift format is taken as the world passes by a rusty, rickety car. The dead air inside the vehicle, not the dust it kicks up on the road, fuels this minimalistic but mighty drama.
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This is not a road to nowhere or an aimless wander of a film. Quite the contrary, as all roads lead toward the titular Nebraska metropolis in Cole Webley’s tight, tender, and tragic tale. But the film recognizes stillness not merely as the absence of motion or progress. It’s merely the resting state of organisms that store the aftershocks of past movement long after the events occur.
“Omaha” contains the closest approximation of muscle memory that a movie can have, and it’s evident before the action even heats up. When law enforcement shows up to foreclose on the home that shelters the film’s central family of three, the filmmaker and the characters respond to the calamitous event with a notable lack of sensationalism. It’s just the latest obstacle to overcome for a single father (John Magaro), along with his young children Ella (Molly Belle Wright) and Charlie (Wyatt Solis), to weather together. They take the setback in stride, as countless Americans had to in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis.
The unnamed pater familias is but one way “Omaha” keeps viewers unshakably grounded in the mindset of the two kids without limiting the film to their perspective. Wembley’s overarching stance is curious, not inquisitive, as they would take in all the unexplained elements of their sudden departure. Machoian’s script also speaks in the shared language of their close-knit unit, understanding how a small phrase or a simple intonation can punch above its weight in impact.
Think “Aftersun” refracted through the fading glory of the American West to understand how it feels to ride with “Omaha.” The film establishes a delicate family ecosystem and parses it through the eyes of Ella as she gradually gains the faculties to begin deconstructing its tenuous ties. At the center of it all is the taciturn man on a mysterious mission toward Cornhusker State, captured in all his grizzled but generous complexity by Magaro.
The remarkable magic of Webley’s filmmaking is that he manages to capture the dad both as a man in his own right as well as how his kids see him. It takes an actor as adept as Magaro to play into their perception as a chilly authority figure but cheat out occasionally to show the torment lurking just beneath his stone-faced façade. Paul Meyers’ unobtrusive camera frequently catches him in quiet moments of contemplation, making the impact all the greater when the situation strain makes him buckle under pressure.
“Omaha” is a tremendous showcase of Magaro’s talent in powerfully holding the screen with only the faintest gesticulation or articulation. He’s a steady hand behind the wheel through moments of trauma and triumph alike, bringing an unvarnished naturalism to a stoic character that never tips into sparseness for the stake of style alone. While his character maintains an aura of inscrutability as he ponders the path forward, Magaro resists the urge to turn his patriarch into a distracting mystery box. All that internal contemplation goes to serve the story first and foremost.
The details of Magaro’s turn are evident in the patient camerawork attuned to even the slightest quiver of his face. Machoian’s screenplay uses that specificity to open up the story to wider resonance as it makes an unexpected third-act detour. “Omaha” captures one family’s story with rich texture, though it’s like many others in the Great Recession. Their eastward journey makes for a reversal of fortunes from manifest destiny as financial misfortune pushes them away from the frontier.
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What lingers following the emotionally walloping finale of “Omaha” are the devastating consequences of an economy that has so left average Americans behind that they cannot even enjoy the luxury of planning beyond their immediate survival needs. In Webley’s empathetic rendering of a family’s dire dilemma, no one is absolved or blamed – yet everyone pays. [B+]
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