At a cursory glance, Tender Mercies does not seem like a particularly noteworthy film – designed mainly as a vehicle for Robert Duvall, who was at the peak of his career as an actor, having been dominant in a range of films throughout the 1970s that made him one of the most sought-after actors working in Hollywood at the time. The film (which is written by veteran playwright and screenwriter Horton Foote, and directed by the versatile Bruce Beresford) is not much to look at when we’re first approaching it, and it has understandably been relatively set aside in recent years, not necessarily being forgotten, but rather not registering as anything particularly special, which is made all the more disconcerting by the fact that there are many similar projects produced at an alarming rate. However, as is often the case with these very traditional dramas, the audience is asked to look deeper than the surface, and the process of peeling away the layers of melodrama and aloof realism allows us access into a truly moving film about a man doing his best to survive. Telling the story of a formerly famous country singer who retreats into obscurity after facing many professional challenges, only to be pulled out of this self-imposed exile as a result of the combination of finding a new wife, and discovering that he is still beloved by many, despite his retreat from the public eye. A beautifully striking story of finding oneself through excavating the perilous ruins of the past, and told by a group of voices who are dedicated enough to focus on both the broad strokes and intimate details, Tender Mercies is a truly moving and vitally compelling piece of cinema that carries a deep message and profound sense of humanity.

The narrative itself may sound conventional, but a lot of what makes Tender Mercies so effective comes in how the director approaches the material. Considering he hails from Australia, it is remarkably surprising that Beresford has directed several films that take a voyage into the American heartland, telling stories inextricably tied to their geographical location, which he constructs with the ease of a filmmaker who knows how to weave together various scenes to form a striking visual and narrative landscape. Tender Mercies may not possess the sardonic satire of Crimes of the Heart, or the heartwarming (but often quite flippant) charm of Driving Miss Daisy, but it is an increasingly compelling work that looks at the life of a few individuals as they come to terms with their own existence, set to the backdrop of a location that is known for its sprawling vistas and deep sentimentality. This is all captured so beautifully throughout the film, which is constantly searching for new ways to demonstrate the shifting psychological state of the main character, who finds himself negotiating not only his position as a musician that has unsuccessfully faded from our consciousness, but also his entire identity, which is called into question as a result of a series of events that change his perspective, and cause him to reconsider the supposedly terminal decisions he had made years before. This is a quintessentially American work, focusing on subjects such as the broken promises of the American Dream, one of the most widely-debated concepts that tends to persist over innumerable films that focus on outsiders doing whatever they can to stake a claim in a world that they have been conditioned to believe was not designed for them in the first place, a bold assumption that Beresford and his cohorts work tirelessly to expand on throughout this poignant film about redefining identity.

As he was acting as a producer on the film, we can easily imagine that Tender Mercies was an orchestrated effort on the part of Duvall to give himself a strong role – and while this may seem like an act of vanity from a distance, watching the film easily establishes that this was less of a case of the ageing (but still very popular) actor wanting a leading role, and more an attempt to challenge himself in ways that he had not been able to previously do. More known for playing slick, urbane types in films like The Godfather and Network, it seemed like a welcome change of pace for him to try something slightly different. The role of an alcoholic country musician who has faded into obscurity presented the actor with a few interesting challenges, and he manages to make each one of them work. He takes on this character, which was beautifully constructed by Foote (who always managed to create incredible characters, especially those that hail from the Southern states), and brings him to life in a way that is a lot more complex than it appears at first. It’s a very internal performance that relies on Duvall’s ability to find the pathos in quite a complex character who could be seen as aloof with the wrong approach. It also helps that the rest of the cast is incredibly supportive – Tess Harper is quiet but resolute in her devotion to this man, while Betty Buckley steals every scene she is in, her mane of fiery red hair and incredible voice lingering on just as much as any other aspect of the film. Yet, everything ultimately revolves around Duvall, and the film is certainly a tour-de-force that may not be his very best, but is certainly one of his most compelling performances.

There are many questions being asked throughout the duration of Tender Mercies – this is not a film driven by plot in the traditional sense, but rather by a series of quandaries experienced by the main characters. Everyone we encounter in this film is some wayward individual trying to find their place in a hostile world – and Beresford knows how to oscillate between different characters, placing the viewer in their position and allowing us to observe the world through their eyes. The film evokes conversations around a variety of themes, whether they are the nature of fame (particularly in how difficult it is to assimilate back into everyday life), or family, which we soon come to learn is the foundation of the film as a whole. This is an extremely internal film, one that thrives on its ability to spend time in deep contemplation of a range of very important issues, all of which are covered with nothing but the most sincere sensitivity. In many ways, Tender Mercies is one of Beresford’s most subtle films, finding ways to touch the viewer without needing to resort to histrionics or heavy-handed commentary. It is all executed with the kind of gentle precision that we don’t often see in a lot of American films – and there is a legitimate case to be made about this being a good companion piece for the following year’s Paris, Texas, a similarly internal story of the American heartland, directed by another foreigner who manages to construct an exceptionally vivid story of a man trying to work through his personal demons, all which navigating both physical and psychological terrain that causes him to reconsider his entire position in life. These kinds of simple stories are always appreciated, especially as more overwrought narratives often tend to dominate in this particular genre.

Tender Mercies often seems to be taking the form of a very thoughtful country song, filled with meaning and beautiful lyricism, but also a deep grit and candour that reminds us of its more humble roots. It flows with a precise rhythm that may be jagged at times, but which reflects the neverending longing felt by every character, especially the one played by Duvall, who filters every observation and experience into his music, which becomes his outlet for the various challenges and existential quandaries he has been carrying within himself. It’s a striking film that is constantly searching for deeper meaning in the most unexpected places – and helmed by a director who does not feel the need to add too much to what is already a very solid piece (since it is primarily driven by the screenplay and performances more than it is a directorial achievement), the film manifests as a series of meaningful conversations, each one adding to an already existing narrative landscape that is built on a very humanistic sense of oscillating frustration and tranquillity. Ultimately, Tender Mercies is asking some very difficult questions, and acknowledges that it might not have all the answers – but what it does possess is something much more impressive, a kind of potent, dedicated honesty that allows Beresford and his collaborators to explore some very important subjects in a way that is direct but not confrontational – and the result is a powerful and complex character study that proves the power of a story well-told.