The political dimension of this unusual film hasn't, I think, been sufficiently emphasized. Both of the central figures, Kurt and Mark, are marginal men, recognizable leftover types from the past century, neither of whom has any citizen's presence much less clout in current America. Kurt holds on to a stale, hip sort of behavior which actually long antedates his own generation's, while Mark, his friend from several years back, is a former hipster, now turned yuppie, a fan of "Air America," married, in possession of a house and with a kid on the way. Mark is converting himself into a work-a-daddy, but he has intimations that something's missing in this recently chosen sort of life. At heart, he, like Kurt, is revealed as still just a boy-man. Accordingly, he jumps at the chance to escape from his house and pregnant wife to try to recapture past youthful good times with Kurt through a road trip to Bagby Hot Springs in the Cascade Mountains of Oregon. Mere location, as we'll see though, doesn't make much difference when it comes to fostering true human intimacy. One can be as alienated or happy in the beautiful countryside as in the industrial city. To emphasize this, the camera shows us exquisite birds on tree branches in the city and leftover garbage at an otherwise naturally beautiful country campsite.
What these two guys discover on their trip is "the people gap," the awareness that there may be no greater strangers than old friends who've been apart for several years. Intellectually and emotionally, Kurt and Mark have nothing in common any longer; the theme of the film, accordingly, is that of the sadness of time, change, and inevitable loss. The photography, beautiful in its fleeting images of scenery, itself richly underscores this theme.
On the road, the former friends pretty quickly see they actually have little to say to one another. Therefore, Kurt mostly fills time smoking pot, while Mark talks too frequently on his cellphone. Although both men sense the gap between them, the less direct Mark reveals this awareness only through occasional facial expressions. The more honest Kurt gives voice to it. Finally, he senses that physical contact may be the only way to reestablish a link to Mark. This culminates in a hot tub scene of unasked for massage. Mark at first is taken aback by this regression to adolescent playing around, but when Kurt tells him to "settle in," he does, becoming so astonishingly submissive he lets his defending hand sporting his wedding ring sink passively into the tub's water. Exactly what finally transpires here is left unclear, but what is not unclear is that nothing durable beyond the moment has taken place, that no bond of any sort has been reestablished between these guys. Their goodbyes are accordingly pretty emotion free and seem to come not a moment too soon. As a chronicle of time, change and loss, the film is undeniably affecting.
If it has a flaw, I'd say it's a certain monotony arising from the focus on only two characters in an extremely closed situation. Given this narrowness, the film more resembles a lyric poem read aloud than a dramatic action, and, despite the beautiful photography, this makes for a very long 76 minutes indeed.