Suicide Is Painless
A moment of silence for Christian Slater’s career — taken before it’s time.
Julian Po, a 1997 film from writer/director Alan Wade, is a simple story that not only serves as a crest in actor Christian Slater’s career, but also harkens back to an earlier era of filmmaking.
Julian Po (Slater) is on his way to the ocean when his car breaks down. After he walks into a small town carrying nothing but a suitcase, the locals become obsessed with discovering Po’s secrets. After a day and night of having his every move monitored by nosey neighbors convinced that they have a drug dealer in their small town, Po confesses that he has come to their small town in order to take his own life. Word quickly spreads and soon the entire town knows Po’s intentions. What follows is a series of increasingly quirky encounters between Po and a town full of strangers who want nothing more then to help him on his way to the afterlife.
Based on a story by Branimir Scepanovic, Julian Po resembles a classic episode of The Twilight Zone with its bizarre premise and brisk 84-minute running length. Director Wade set out to tell a quiet story about one man’s journey to life through death and he succeeded beautifully. The movie radiates tragic melancholy though every aspect of production. While it is obvious that a lot of attention went into the film’s production details, the attention to plot details is thankfully sparse.
The film works as well as it does because of the realistic lack of details. In life, not everybody has all the answers. Likewise, in Julian Po audiences are presented with a portrait of a man in the present. Viewers are never given a fleshed-out back-story for Po and they don’t need one. The story is not about why Po wants to commit suicide, but instead is focused on how a small town so desperate for drama deals with Po’s odd announcement.
From the opening narration to the closing shot, nothing in the film seems forced or wasted. Everything about the awkwardness of Po’s quest is presented to perfection. Po records his thoughts down on a voice recorder, often stumbling over his ideas along the way. When he begins to encounter the locals, he gradually shifts from a desperate need for isolation to a newfound desire for human interaction. The story is obviously a fantasy, but the human emotions and insecurities presented along the way could not be truer.
The acting in Julian Po remains wonderfully rich without an inch of scene chewing. Slater utilizes his bad boy persona to catch audiences off guard. Those expecting typical Slater fare will be left surprised at the vulnerability he shows in the film.
The actors portraying the town locals have each developed a library of eccentricities. Michael Parks steals every scene he is in with his performance as Vern, the town’s inn keep who manages to be both a slime ball creep and a truly caring individual. Robin Tunney co-stars as the token love interest who is handled in a decidedly non-cliché way. A local girl who approached Po with proclamations of fate and destiny, Sarah (Tunnery) inadvertently convinces Po not to take his life. It’s too bad, she is five gallons of crazy in a eight ounce cup and saving Po from suicide was not in her plans.
The film always chooses to show instead of tell. Details, while not as omnipresent as in other films, are there for those who pay attention. Sub-plots that seemingly are ignored are wrapped up and answered in a glance between two people or a silent sob hidden from view.
Music by Patrick Williams helps sell the film’s emotions with haunting ballads and strings. As the film builds to a bittersweet ending, audiences will realize watching Julian Po is like watching a clown slip on a banana peal and fall into the path of a moving bus, you don’t know if you should laugh or cry.
