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Cal (Billy Crudup) is a handsome, hard-drinking guy driving across the country with no particular destination in mind--but this is no romantic road trip. Cal has abandoned his wife and child and is running from a misery he can't even articulate; his encounters with other lonely people in bars and airports only render him more confused, while his inviting good looks routinely get him into trouble.
World Traveler delves into the heart of a certain American grief and rootlessness, one that corresponds to the vast open space of the country itself. The movie doesn't explain itself, but the nuanced script and direction by Bart Freundlich (
The Myth of Fingerprints) and superb performances by Crudup, Julianne Moore, James LeGros, David Keith, Karen Allen, Mary McCormack, and others make
World Traveler completely compelling. A subtle but deeply felt movie, akin to 1970s character portraits like
Five Easy Pieces.
--Bret Fetzer
From The New Yorker
A young architect named Cal (Billy Crudup) has so much going for him-beautiful wife, adoring child, good job, quiet New York apartment-that he has no option but to throw it all away and take off on his own. This brand of willful, inarticulate dread is by no means particular to the movies, yet Cal certainly takes his cue from congenital drifters like Jack Nicholson's character in "Five Easy Pieces." What's new is the way in which the director, Bart Freundlich, indulges the urgings of his hero: as Cal screws his way across America, meeting a cast of ex-friends, ex-drunks, and drunks, his stirrings are rarely viewed as anything less than noble. The result is both gloomy and graceful, and it settles, rather than rises, to its pastoral resolution, in which one generation of American manhood makes its peace with another. (You want to shout: That's it?) Julianne Moore, who lives with Freundlich offscreen, appears late in the movie as a paranoid alcoholic wearing too much makeup; we know that directors shouldn't favor their loved ones, but isn't this pushing it a bit? With a loud, funny cameo from James LeGros. -Anthony Lane
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker