Critics reviews

Something, Anything" has the wisdom not to offer Peggy (or the audience) any bromides or easy paths to self-realization, even as it gently nudges her in a hopeful new direction. Shelton's graceful, reserved performance is the picture's strongest and subtlest asset, never completely spelling out exactly what Peggy (or Margaret, as she begins calling herself) is feeling, but gently suggesting the silent courage it takes to defy the expectations of those around her.

"Something, Anything" is the kind of movie you feel protective of even as you are watching it. Its rhythms and inflections are so subtle, it almost comes as a surprise just how compelling they ultimately become. It is an unmistakably "small" film, but as the story builds up and the characters come into focus, you know you are witnessing something rare and precious: an American independent film that's understated and intelligent, as well as utterly free of showiness and calculation.

A quietly meditative, regional production, Harrill's debut feature follows Peggy (Ashley Shelton), a young Southern woman who, after a series of tragic personal events, begins a spiritual quest to better herself as an individual with altruistic intentions. Ethereal throughout, Harrill's film displays an assured, contemplative expressiveness behind the camera.

Modestly presented but emotionally ambitious — and with a lovely, low-key performance from Ms. Shelton — this immersive first feature gently reveals the void of an adulthood on autopilot. Peggy's transformation isn't earthshaking, just a gradual evolution from quiet desperation to something like hope.

Something, Anything begins with images that threaten such blissfully generic Americana—a handsome Tennessee couple gets engaged, gets married, and learns they're going to have a baby—that any seasoned viewer will be on guard almost immediately, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Drop it does, but rather than measure a trauma and its aftermath to melodramatic proportions, writer-director Paul Harrill turns what at first appears as Kodak moments into a study of a soul in transition.

Something, Anything has overall the welcome sense of familiar strands of life transposed to cinema with minimal embellishment. Bryce Johnson is good as a man vacillating between writing off his wife as a flakey disappointment, and taking her leaving as a ding on his status. In fact, the less sympathetically his character is written, the more believable Peggy/Margaret's indecision over her marriage becomes.

In an era when "contemplative" filmmakers tend to evoke Tarkovsky, Dreyer, Malick, and the Dardennes, Harrill's style is decidedly conventional—old-fashioned, even. Peggy's appearance might allude to Vivre sa vie-era Anna Karina, but Harrill's treatment of her owes less to Godard than to American studio directors like Henry Hill (I was reminded more than once of The Song of Burnadette), George Cukor, and, as he acknowledges in our conversation, Frank Borzage and Leo McCarey.

Something, Anything doesn't really engage with issues of faith or materialism (unless you count canceling your cell phone as evidence), and the cringeworthy endgame sets up a hipster bar-band concert as false catharsis.