Cole Webley’s feature directorial debut follows a family in the wake of one tragedy, as they head inexorably toward another.
Greenwich Entertainment releases *Omaha* in New York on Friday, April 24, and in theaters nationwide this May.
Director: Cole Webley
Writer: Robert Machoian
Stars: John Magaro, Molly Belle Wright, Wyatt Solis
For a good portion of Cole Webley’s feature directorial debut, *Omaha*, we remain just as in the dark about what is happening as the intrepid pair of child protagonists (Molly Belle Wright and Wyatt Solis—both wonderful in their roles), who make up two-thirds of the close-knit family trio at the story’s center. This is not a flaw, but a virtue; while Robert Machoian’s screenplay is measured in how it doles out information and shrewd in what it chooses to withhold, these decisions place the audience on equal emotional footing with the very heart of this heartbreaking family drama.
It is the dead of night when we meet them: the father (John Magaro), Ella (Wright), and Charlie (Solis). They are setting off on a trip—though only the father knows it—and as he carefully lifts his children from their warm beds to settle them into the car, it is hard to imagine he intends to take them to Disneyland or any other warm, fun-filled destination.
“Pretend there’s a fire,” he tells his eldest daughter—Ella, a girl wise beyond her years—as she hesitates over what to pack.
And while there may not be an actual fire raging, tragedy has already ravaged this family, snatching away a beloved wife and mother and leaving destruction in its wake. And yet, as the father (whose name we only learn later), Ella, the cheerful Charlie, and Rex—the family dog—make their escape—away from a home adorned with eviction notices on the door; away from a concerned deputy sheriff keeping watch from the street; —toward a place where the most important things they possess are each other’s company and a slim envelope containing vital documents—there persists a certain sense of adventure regarding what the future may hold.
Part of this is due to Magaro’s performance, which oscillates between moments of profound grief and a—hard-won—desire to ensure his children have a good time. As they drift between roadside gas stations, he pauses to eat fast food, get ice cream, fly kites, and more—all against the backdrop of the dazzling, austere American West. (There is a scene in which the children and Rex run across the Utah salt flats—filmed with such beauty by cinematographer Paul Meyers that it is likely to bring a tear to anyone’s eye.)
While Magaro’s performance serves as the film’s anchor, the solid performances from both Wright and Solis lend it additional depth. The same goes for Webley and Machoian’s evident interest in the perspectives and experiences of their young characters; often, *Omaha* is not merely seen, but felt through their eyes. This also means that a slow-building anxiety takes root—particularly in the observant Ella—and becomes nearly impossible to shake, no matter how many moments of fun the family experiences in bursts of euphoria.
Nor does it help that the father keeps to himself not only the purpose of the trip but also its exact destination. Eventually, he gives in to the children’s questions (well, mostly Ella’s) and lets the truth slip: they are heading to Nebraska. The fact that the location holds no familiarity for them—with no exclamations like, "Oh, that’s where Mom was from!" or "That’s where Grandma and Grandpa live!"—should set off alarm bells. And although we eventually discover the reason for going to Omaha, the lingering mystery of *why* Nebraska looms over the film’s final act. That is, of course, the most heartbreaking part of the film, as Machoian’s screenplay moves toward revelations that are predictable, yet powerful. Webley’s sensitive direction provides a steady hand throughout most of the movie, guiding us through shifts in tone and lingering questions. Her narrative concludes on a forceful note, capped off by Magaro’s moving performance in a film filled with sound creative choices.
The explanation for *why* Nebraska arrives when it does may feel somewhat unnecessary and moralizing. However, the apparent plot twist of the revelation—tucked into a film that works best when it stays the course—could leave some viewers feeling bewildered. Perhaps, though, therein lies the strength and meaning of this tender and heartbreaking story. The real world rarely resembles a movie. This movie? It often feels just like the real world.
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