Kathy (Hong Chau) is a young woman from Michigan who has recently lost her older sister to a heart attack and has to make the journey to a small town in suburban New York to pack up her house, with her son, Cody (Lucas Jaye) accompanying on the trip. She had grown apart from his sister in their adult years, and is upset and chagrined to discover that she was a reclusive hoarder, whose beautiful house is overrun with garbage and unnecessary material items that she used to gain comfort from her very lonely life. Kathy and Cody have the intimidating task of getting everything out of the house and preparing it to be sold, which becomes increasingly difficult when it is made evident that both of them have their own quandaries that are holding them back from fully accepting their position in life. Cody, a reserved young boy, strikes up an unusual friendship with Del (Brian Dennehy), the widowed veteran who lives next door, and is in a familiar position, spending his days playing bingo with his army friends, while coming to terms with his own mortality, being fully aware that it’s only a matter of time before he departs his life as well – he’s surrounded by people who have started to see their own lives come to an end, in many ways being the one who has to ensure those around him take care of themselves, and in the process recedes into a space of profound loneliness, as no one seems willing to give him the same, forcing him to grow detached from reality. Over the course of a few weeks, these unofficial neighbours become quite close, learning an immense amount about each other and finding solace in the other during these difficult times, and whether it be through sampling from their unexpected wisdom, or realizing that experience brings insights,  they soon discover that one doesn’t need to look very hard to understand that home is where the heart is, and that a family is much more than just a blood relation, but a series of shared understandings and the willingness to work together to support and love each other, which sometimes means the most.

Andrew Ahn’s debut film, Spa Night was an astonishing achievement – a quietly intense social drama that touched on themes of identity in a particular faction of the community, but ultimately was an addition to the canon of great films that endeavour to look into American existence in some way, looking at the immigrant experience with harrowing honest and pure visual poetry. His sophomore film, Driveways, navigates similar territory in terms of being a character-driven story of existential pondering, while still being quite a radical departure from the more gritty, neo-realist style with which the director made his previous film. A beautifully poignant drama that doesn’t feel compelled to say or do anything along the lines of other similar-themed character-driven dramas, the film provides a potent burst of humanity to a story that is far from revolutionary, but rendered as an absolute delight when channelled through the vision of a filmmaker who is on his way to defining himself as an essential voice in American cinema, one where stories outside the conventional confines are actively pursued, not only for the sake of representation, but also to be poignant explorations of the human condition and modern life, which no longer align themselves with geographical or cultural boundaries, but are rather defined by the binding of every individual under a shared humanity, which Ahn manages to capture with sincerity, heart and delicate humour in Driveways, one of the year’s most staggering achievements, not for its originality, but for its soulful willingness to lay the fundamentals of existence bare, and give audiences the chance to engage with a story that may be challenging at times, especially for those who have felt any of the bevvy of raw emotions infused throughout the film, but is ultimately entirely worthwhile, as it reveals something much deeper than a more conventional film would ever be able to find.

Driveways is a film that begins as a film about grief and loss and ends as one about hope and finding the best in every situation, which is by no means unprecedented, but rather done in such a way that it feels radically different from the overwrought morality tales that seek to derive the same emotions from the viewer that it sets out to do. Screenwriters Hannah Bos and Paul Thurteen are far too interested in making something meaningful to resort to constructing any particular emotion, rather being intent on putting together a layered story of a group of individuals and their intersecting lives. This allows Driveways to be a film that means something different to every viewer, and each of us can finding something different in each of the main characters – whether it be the uncertainty for the future felt by Kathy, the struggle to find a particular identity that is represented through Cody or the aching melancholy demonstrated through Del, the film is a complex foray into the lives of several characters who are divided by many factors, but bound by a particular search for meaning – and like any work of modern realism, Driveways isn’t merely seeking to portray life as it is, but also impart some kind of message. The extent to what this film means to an individual is entirely unique to each viewer – there are innumerable layers of human drama that persist throughout the film, and it executes through a slow-burning approach to a very simple but effective set of ideas, never going too far or doing too much in terms of telling its story, and instead focusing more on the honesty evokes from a film that required this kind of approach more than anything, since the truth often manifests in the most simple, but meaningful, manner possible, which is certainly extremely true for Driveways. This is a film that means a lot more than it appears, and while you’d be forgiven for mistaking it as another run-of-the-mill drama about ordinary people encountering various challenges, the story goes much deeper than this.

As a character-driven piece, the film relies extensively on the performances, and it puts together a small ensemble that take on this raw, complex story with ease and brilliance. Hong Chau, rapidly ascending to the status of one of contemporary cinema’s most enigmatic stars, is absolutely brilliant as Kathy. Chau has amassed a small but admirable set of performances across film and television but hasn’t quite been put in the leading role until very recently, with Driveways being one of the watershed moments in her career, where she was pushed from scene-stealing supporting player to someone who could lead a film. She is astounding, playing the role with sincerity and honesty, bringing out every emotion with dignity and poise, while never failing to show the deeply human underpinnings of the character. This same approach can be found in Lucas Jaye, who quietly takes over the film and becomes its de facto lead, the emotional heart of Driveways. His performance is a powerhouse of unhinged passion, delivered from an actor whose skills seem to conflict with his young age. At the outset, Jaye is constructed as the adorable child to the protagonist, tagging along with his mother while she undergoes a series of challenges, with the audience not being aware that it’s Cody’s emotional journey that we become so invested in. A large part of this is due to Ahn clearly knowing how to work with a child actor, not limiting him to a series of quirks and giving him the chance to allow his talents to manifest. Jaye is exceptional – his progression from the background to the film’s most poignant character is indicative of a sense of understanding those involved in the film had for the character, showing him as far more complex than an innocent, naive young person, positioning him as perhaps the wisest and insightful of all of them. It’s not an easy accomplishment, but the film manages to do it perfectly, making it one of the many areas in which Driveways succeeds.

The cast itself is exceptional, and their chemistry is a major part of why the film succeeds as much as it does. Many of Jaye’s best moments often come when sharing the screen with Brian Dennehy, one of the most perpetually underpraised actors, and who gives one of his final performances in Driveways. He’s essentially playing an archetype, but he avoids the pratfalls that normally come with this kind of character – he’s not a crusty curmudgeon who has a heart of gold, but rather an older man whose reservations are established quite early on as being the result of inner quandaries, rather than mere misanthropy. There’s a complexity to Dennehy’s performance that can only come from the experience he amassed throughout his storied career, and he truly delivers one of the most heartbreaking performances in years in Driveways, a film that gives me more to do than many films would dare. Whether it be in moments of quiet introspection, or the way the actor is able to convey so much through as little as a glance or subtle expression, speaks to the mastery he demonstrated throughout his craft. He also delivers one of the most profoundly moving monologues of the past few years, a passionate ode to life and overcoming obstacles that is bound to become one of the most moving moments of representing the importance of resilience. It’s a wonderful swan song for an actor whose career saw him traverse genre, medium and convention, with one of his last performances being a poignant parting letter to an actor who was always reliable, even if the characters he played in bigger productions weren’t always calibrated to his own set of immense talents, which Driveways remedies in a wonderful way.

The key to Driveways is found in its simplicity, and Ahn makes sure to keep everything at the fundamentally human level throughout, which makes the most significant difference in this masterful drama. It is one of the many proverbial “slice-of-life” films that seek to portray life as honestly as possible, rarely taking any enormously significant risks, other than daring to give their characters more emotion than many similar films tend to do. Yet it flourishes in how it manages to convey authentic human emotion, never taking any shortcuts and instead making sure to infuse every frame with an aching poignancy that makes it such an extraordinary achievement in so many ways. Driveways is an intensely beautiful exploration of the human spirit, executed with grace and vigour, and masterfully guided by a filmmaker who continues to define himself as one of the more interesting young artists working today and one who has an immensely fascinating career ahead of him, if his two previous films are any indication. It finds itself telling a truly compelling story, filling it with resilience and grit, composing a motivational piece of cinema that is as honest as it is moving. Its a very small film, and it may not make any bold moves, electing to instead be a quiet, brooding drama that takes its time in establishing a solid story, and follows through, conveying the raw, unadulterated emotion that persists throughout the experiences that the film seeks to demonstrate. Its brutally honest, but utterly beautiful work, delivered by a group of artists that not only knew how to convey truth but also understood the deepest recesses of the human condition, resulting in a truly gorgeous and meaningful piece of independent filmmaking.