Late in the day, after a long, relaxing swim, Ruth (Kathleen Chalfant) steps into a warm, clarifying shower. And as the water runs over her body, she has a realization. “I won’t remember,” she says, with melancholic lucidity. The man who dropped her off at this swanky nursing home, complete with a pool, library, and even virtual reality headsets, was her architect son, Steve (H. Jon Benjamin). When we meet Ruth, she’s preparing to have lunch with him, acting as if it’s a date. She asks him questions about his background and career, and in one moment, even touches his thigh. It’s then that Steve realizes that Ruth’s tenure as his mother had come to an end. She can no longer remember him.
Ruth drifts in and out of lucidity, sharp one moment and confused the next. She can remember recipes, addresses, and nuggets of her past, but not much else. So she clings to what she does know, making notes and reciting her favorite recipes from memory to anyone who makes her feel small. She talks about growing up in Brooklyn, observing her grandmother in the kitchen, and even Civil Rights organizing. Ruth is the kind of woman who has moved through life with high standards and principles, asserting her independence in every aspect of her actions. She doesn’t like being talked into things or treated like a child. Like many older folks, Ruth struggles with accepting that time’s inevitability weakens the body and unfairly alters the mind.
“Familiar Touch” is a gorgeous drama with an open, aching heart. Writer and director Sarah Friedland fills each frame with an abundance of vibrant colors, with an emphasis on food—carefully made sandwiches, precisely prepared and presented, fruit salads, scrambled eggs, and, in one memorable scene, a market full of fresh produce. It’s as if Ruth finds herself in food, like a home she can reach for anywhere. Cinematographer Gabe C. Elder creates a dreamlike world for Ruth to inhabit, allowing the camera to drift through the nursing home and observe all its residents. In some moments, we know precisely where Ruth is and what she’s doing; in others, we feel as lost in time and space as she does. Sometimes Ruth is a child, and her nurse, Vanessa (Carolyn Michelle Smith), has now taken on the role of her loving, watchful mother. Respecting her patient’s desire for independence and autonomy, Vanessa performs a delicate balancing act of authority figure and friend.
Friedland’s screenplay grapples with the struggle for dignity that Ruth and the other residents want and deserve, while still acknowledging the reality of their increasing physical and cognitive limitations. Chalfant is a revelation as Ruth, taking the audience by the hand and guiding us through the many faces of this woman. It’s as if every moment of her life is a new scene, a different world she must adjust to. She’s both grounded and drifting, with us and in the clouds. Benjamin gives a heartbreaking performance as Ruth’s son, Steve, grappling with being an authority figure in his mother’s life for the very first time. Mainly known for his voiceover work in animation, Benjamin proves himself as a skilled physical performer, especially in a scene late in the film where he and Chalfant dance together, holding each other tightly. Smith is also a standout, bringing dimension and weight to a character that could have so easily been broad or underdeveloped. Vanessa doesn’t just take care of Ruth; she’s actively curious about her, and they share genuine moments of understanding through looks and small moments of contact.
“Familiar Touch” is a breathtaking feature directorial debut from Friedland, who comes right out of the gate with an assured narrative voice. The wandering story is anchored by the strong cast, who feel just as real as the audience members watching them. This is the kind of small indie that reminds us of the depths of emotion that can be experienced onscreen without mimicking the grandeur of the theater, with its dramatic monologues and carefully choreographed scenes. Friedland pulls us into a colorful world where memories come and go as they please, trusting the audience to find their way through, grasping at small moments of meaning along the way.
