MUBI

Conflict exists in all documentaries and in God’s Country the conflict is subtle. It unravels slowly and inconspicuously. In fact, the conflict is debatable through the first two-thirds of the film. We become acquainted with conflicts between generations, conflicts of change and religion. Despite these conflicts, Malle delicately presents a gregarious Glencoe, Minnesota—Anytown, America, and at last, we discover the economic turmoil facing farmers six years later, many of whom attribute their troubles to Reganomics.

These conflicts are important to the film but they are not priority. God Country’s redeeming quality lies in its tender characters. Malle respects his subjects. And though these subjects allow room for ridicule, the crew is never disrespectful or condescending, unlike many contemporary documentaries. Since the crew respects its subjects, the audience does also. And it minimizes our criticisms, I think, while protecting the humanity of the subjects. These things are important in documentaries and Malle’s approach creates a thoughtful and engaging film here. I recommend it highly.

This film is a wonderful adventure in hospitality that graciously invites Malle and his camera into the heart of a Real(er) America and simultaneously presents an innocent Glencoe to the rest of the world, in the absence of malice. So-called “ordinary Americans” show us a community that existed and persisted long before political correctness tempered the furious clash of tradition with progress, with a presience that’s even more insightful and applicable now than in 1985.
The most striking aspect of these various and fascinating storylines is the civilized ease with which these homogenous and conservative residents cooperated with one another and with the filmmaker. It’s the civility we’ve largely lost that leads my wistful attention Back To God’s Country, if only for the relief from buzzwords, stereotypes and soundbytes. They were present, but embryonic.

Pretty bland documentary focuses on the simple and unextraordinary lives of the residents of an unremarkable Minnesota small town – and I guess that’s the point, but filmmaker Louis Malle seemed far more fascinated with these common people than I was. There are a handful of compelling moments, and it would often hint at some interesting aspects, but none of them ever really panned out. Not a terrible film, but not particularly memorable.

Malle is extremely tender. That’s his best quality. In his interviews, he slowly undresses each subject. He leaves each one in a state of total vulnerability. He could have done anything with that footage. He could have mocked his subjects, he could have stared blankly at them, or he could have layered on purple praise. But instead Malle is simply kind, and observant. He’s a man of love, and this is a film of love.